European Nightmare Part V

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. Contains adult themes. The author does not condone any of the actions depicted in this work. Please do not read if you are easily offended, or find it difficult to distinguish between fantasy and reality.

Author’s Note: I would greatly appreciate any feedback whatsoever, any suggestions or ideas for the continuation of the story or the characters would also be much appreciated. My email is joshuajonesxxx@gmail.com so please don’t hesitate to get in contact. Enjoy.


The smoke from the stubbed out cigarette curled into the air in thin blue wispy tails. As he pored over the documents, the greying detective’s furrowed brow sweated slightly. Years of working on this case had consumed him, costing him his wife, his family, his house and most of his friends. All he had left was work and work was this case. Despite repeated calls from the top to leave it and move on, he kept coming back, obsessively intent on solving it. He woke thinking about it, went to sleep thinking about it, even thought about it while taking a shit. He knew he was a stereotypical detective consumed by a case but the cliché was lost on him. For years it had been a dead end, mysterious disappearances inevitably ending as cold cases, allegations of people trafficking and high level corruption, as well as a distinct lack of interest from his superiors who he thought were supposed to care about cases like these. His drinking and smoking had spiralled out of control in the last couple of years and the few people who still cared about him had been very concerned about his health.

And now it was back again. That afternoon, Detective Daniel Hanneman had received a call from Berlin about three British schoolgirls missing in Munich. Britain was pressuring German law enforcement to find them and catch those responsible. Given how similar this disappearance was to his many others, his superiors had given him the case, though his district commissioner had seemed curiously uninterested in such a top priority case. Before him were all his files from the previous cases, his laptop open with the files he had just been sent. Lighting another cigarette, he gazed absently at the pictures of the three missing British girls. They fitted the profile of the others he had been looking for; young and gorgeous. He was riled that it took a few precious English bitches to go missing before his superiors were even slightly interested in his work. Still, at least it was finally being taken seriously. Cradling his coffee cup, he took a long drag and contemplated the display in front of him. Another night of very little sleep, searching for some crucial elusive clue, awaited him.

There must be something, he thought, to connect the victims. Maybe they had gone somewhere where they were spotted and taken. Ten girls had gone missing in the last two years, all in the same area. Daniel looked at the map he had created, red circles showing the places tourists and young people might go; bars, nightclubs hotels, parks. Looking at the girls’ files and then his map, he spotted something. When the faces of the three girls were published, they had received few calls, mostly from perverts saying what they hoped happened to them. But one claimed to have seen them walking down a street lined with a dozen or so bars, very close to their hotel and in the right area. Daniel cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, probably a result of his lack of sleep over the last few days. He looked at the time – 01:20. If he hurried he could canvass a few places before they closed. It would be more useful than sitting here staring at the same documents for hours on end. Feeling old and a little worse for wear but with a slight spring in his step, Daniel prepared to leave.

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Examining the two women like cuts of meat or prints of wallpaper, Greta frowned in concentration. Her customer was of many years standing with very specific and very high standards. Though this was one of his less eccentric requests, she was still keen to get it absolutely right and wasn’t rushing her decision. Looking from one female body to the other, she sized them up, her experience picking up details the untrained eye might miss to compare how they stood, their facial expressions, the tone of their muscles, even their nails and haircuts with the requirements. One woman especially troubled her, a tear rolling down its cheek. Without the two naked women, this could have passed for just a normal business meeting, a sharply dressed women in an expensive suit addressing two similarly well dressed men in an office both unremarkable and expensive. But this was clearly a very different encounter. The two men firmly held their charges upright as the stern blonde woman, her eyes fixed on the body of the woman troubling her, came around the desk for a closer look.

“Stand her up properly,” Greta impatiently snapped at the man holding the woman. He immediately pulled up the woman’s arms, forcing her to straighten even more. Greta’s piercing stare moved over every inch of black skin as the woman stood trembling before her. With a brusque stride designed to instil fear, Greta stalked round the woman, checking her curves and skin for any blemishes that would make her unsatisfactory for her client. She ran her hand down the cleft of the woman’s buttocks, her white hand sharply contrasting the deep mahogany of the smooth skin. Keeping touching to a minimum as her client had requested yet she had to feel this girl’s rump. To almost everyone else the girls were stunningly attractive; slender yet curvy, both with toned bodies, proud and pert breasts standing on their chests, unblemished skin and soft but sexy and feminine features. But Greta saw girls like this almost daily and had to look deeper. Giving a buttock a firm squeeze, she appeared satisfied for she went back to her chair and looked at the paperwork. On receiving the request several weeks ago, she had immediately set out to procure the items for her client. Some extensive searching had delivered results and Greta had narrowed the shortlist to just these two, a black from the Parisian suburbs and an Asian from a boarding school in Macau. In truth it didn’t matter to Greta where they came from, only that they were up to scratch. These two were.

“Yes, they’ll do just fine,” Greta said without looking at the two men, “send them on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two repeated in unison before frogmarching the two women out of the office.

Greta sat back and relaxed. The stress of this assignment had weighed heavily on her for the last few days and finally resolving it was a huge relief. She had done her job brilliantly, meeting the request exactly. Admittedly the two she had chosen would have made a welcome addition to her own collection let alone his much smaller but growing one. The girls she had supplied him over the years had been almost exclusively white Europeans and she knew from experience that some diversity was always good. In fact, when her thoughts turned to her own collection, she realised it only had one properly dark one and a few mixed raced ones, though it was well stocked with Asians. To that end she made a diary note to send her scouts to look for some suitable specimens. Returning to the present, she brought up the webcams surveilling the basement and looked with pleasure at each of her new toys. The last few days could hardly have gone better but she was still worried. In a few days she had some very special guests coming, very loyal customers, and they would expect quality. While the new acquisitions would be perfect for them, Greta was worried they would still be too raw. It was a race against time with none to lose so Greta switched off the monitor and gathered her things. Another long day. Though not as long as it would be for her new slaves.

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Lucy was woken this time not by the dreaded alarm clock but by a mechanical click and a whir as the electronic door slowly swung open. The dark corridor meant Lucy couldn’t clearly see the figure standing at the entrance. It wasn’t Mehmet or Hasan and though it looked like a woman, something about its elegant posture made her think it wasn’t Greta. She strained to make out the details but soon didn’t have to try when it stepped into the half light of the room. Moving her eyes slowly up from dainty feet to silken black hair, the prone girl’s face was a picture of both surprise and wonder intermixed with some fear. In front of her was a classic Oriental beauty. The nails of her feet were beautifully maintained and painted a dark shade of vivid red, mounted on a pair of stupendously high heels which shaped her long golden brown legs fabulously or at least the one visible through a long black patterned cheongsam hanging to just below her knee, a large slit in one side running up almost to her hip. Lucy’s eyes continued the long journey up the woman’s elegant body, the figure hugging dress accentuating the athletic body lying beneath, the tight fabric tantalisingly tracing while concealing the woman’s bosom. Her neck seemed to go on forever, adding to the grace oozing from every pore. Her face was like the most exquisite figure on some priceless Chinese porcelain, her features soft and nuanced but emotionless. With her jet black hair tied delicately, a single jade pin holding the luscious black locks in place, the woman’s beauty and sheer presence was mesmerising.

“Come.”

The voice matched the face perfectly, spoken with a practiced grace which covered up almost entirely an accent just hinted at. With that single word, in one fluid movement the woman turned and left, only her perfumed scent lingering in the dark room. Lucy was nervous. She and her friends had experienced nothing but horror in this wretched place and she expected this to be no different. That she hadn’t been personally tortured by this woman yet didn’t mean that by following her she would not be. Yet despite her misgivings, Lucy knew nothing was gained by disobeying. So she staggered to her feet, the lack of sleep and physical exertions of the last days making her weak and stiff, and left, to follow the perfumed trail of the exotic visitor. Her walk was ungainly, the prolonged masturbating of the last few hours making her pussy lips red and sore. She crossed one arm over her chest and placed the other at her crotch, trying to protect what little modesty she had. Turning the corner, Lucy saw the woman standing at the end of the corridor. It was amazing how fast she covered the ground, her eyes beckoned the stumbling girl to follow. And Lucy did, her long legs dragging along the floor as she tried to push herself down the stone hall. Eventually she caught up with the oriental beauty who silently opened a door to her right and glided through. Lucy silently followed. As the woman moved effortlessly up some stone steps. Lucy paused then wearily climbed, hoping for only a short flight given her stiff legs. Still covering herself and with a bowed head, Lucy’s mind swam in an ocean of memories of what had been and fear of what was to come.

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Tied in very different positions, the two girls in the basement had felt the hours go very slow indeed. The stone walls echoed with the rhythm of the machine oscillating in and out of Holly, punctuated by the two victims’ intermittent groans of pain and shame. The total darkness made the mechanical sound even more terrifying, sounding like a sinister laundry in a rough neighbourhood. But the two teens weren’t interested in how their torture chamber sounded, focussed as they were on the pain racking their bodies and the fear and depression consuming their minds.

Olivia tried to keep quiet to avoid irritating her new wound which, though she didn’t know it, had been so expertly done as to heal quickly. Unluckily for her. The original sharp excruciating agony had reduced to a dull ache that only sharpened when she involuntarily moved her mouth. And it wasn’t just her mouth that ached. The abuse of the last few days had made her whole body sore, making her groan each time it twitched. Her breasts were bruised from being squeezed and twisted, one nipple in particular swollen and reddened. Her pussy was in continual pain. Her brutal rape when they first woke had been painful enough but each time she had been tortured there made it worse. But what hurt more than the physical pain was the psychological torment of knowing there was no immediate escape. She had already been forced to degrade herself and, being somewhat streetwise, knew very well the reason for her latest mutilation. She had watched enough porn, seen enough pictures on the internet and heard enough people talking to know why Greta wanted her to have a longer tongue. Olivia tried her best not to think about what the future held but she simply couldn’t shake the terror gripping her. Only by blanking her mind could she hold back the tears.

Across the room Holly was an even more sorry case. She couldn’t help but whimper even if the mechanical clunking of the machine, rhythmically pounding her red raw pussy, drowned out the sound of her pathetic mewling. Having not been fucked at all in her first eighteen years, she had now been fucked almost continuously for the last four hours. In truth she had lost track of time, the sound of her automated rapist fading into the background. But what hurt most was not the constant battering of her buttocks causing a pattern of persistent bruising to develop with each impact but, oddly, that she had cum many times. She had tried not to but having been roundly fucked for hours she was completely unable to stop it, each orgasm coming quicker and quicker, her pussy now as slick as an oil spill from both the lube being squirted out the top of the rubber dildo and her own juices which had begun to pool on the floor beneath her. Her whole body shook with each climax, the wave of pleasure washing over her then instantly replaced with the underlying pain of her much abused body. Each orgasm was only minor, the monotonous fucking stimulating her slowly and methodically, but the constant stimulation was almost as emotionally draining as the subsequent pain. At first she had almost enjoyed it as a rare moment of pleasure in an ocean of pain. Although she hadn’t had sex before entering this basement of horrors, Holly was no stranger to an orgasm. But the machine’s constant brutal fucking while bound and restrained was a far cry from the tender touch of her fingers in her comfy bed at home. She was soon dreading each impending orgasm, steadily forcing her to associate pleasure with pain. Worse was the throbbing agony of her mountainous breasts, now just globes of pain, so bruised that they hurt even without being touched. But with her head and arms firmly clamped in heavy wooden stocks, her heaving breasts were forced to slap the hard wood, causing even more pain to her magnificent chest. Although the sound of her giant mounds thudding into the stocks was quiet compared with the other sounds in the cellar, her whimper at each impact was audible and now did nothing to relieve her misery. And the intense heat she felt inside her latex bodysuit caused so much sweat to pour off her that, combined with her tears and pussy juices, it had shrunk slightly, adding yet more discomfort. Her body racked with pain, Holly felt like an animal in an intensive farm just waiting to be slaughtered. And, she suspected, her torment wouldn’t end soon.

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An amber glow was cast over the metal forest of bowing machines stretching as far as the eye could see in a desert landscape. The white haired man was used to the view but it still made him smile as he rubbed his swollen belly. Jeremiah spent so little time down there now that he enjoyed having the photograph on the wall of his home office, a reminder of where his fortune had started. All that black gold beneath the surface allowed him to sit here in $10,000 snakeskin boots in a room furnished with the most expensive trappings money could buy. It wasn’t the best thing about his wealth and influence though. With a groan of pleasure, he looked down at the blonde head bobbing up and down on his erect prick. Placing his right hand on the back of her head, he pushed down, forcing the girl to gag as his cock slipped down her throat. Despite her training she still needed work; her struggle at deep throating him would have to be ironed out. Three weeks he’d had the clever little college girl and despite his best efforts she still wasn’t pleasing him as he expected. It would take time but he was sure he’d get her there eventually. Certainly with Greta Schweinberg’s help, he would turn her into a good little sex slave in no time.

Still, he had to admit she had come a long way from when he had first got her. All those trips to Germany had whetted his appetite and with Greta’s instructions he had set about getting his own little plaything. When he’d seen this one, he’d known she’d was perfect. It had been an easy decision to give her the internship. Her face when she woke in his basement had been a picture, her shock and fear a permanent memory. He had thoroughly enjoyed taking the little slut down a few notches, her Harvard education doing nothing to stop his whips, his restraints or his dick. He’d fucked her every which way, using her in ways she couldn’t possibly have imagined, causing her pain beyond her wildest nightmares. Of course there’d been a small investigation, a trivial matter since his army of lawyers did not allow the police anywhere near him. So while people still looked for this bit of skirt, she had her mouth full of his engorged prick, his glans slipping deep into her throat. Six minutes in and he was becoming restless, the feeling of her hot moist tongue on his sensitive penis one of life’s great gifts. Standing up, he grabbed her head with both hands as the girl continued to bob up and down his shaft. Without warning he slid his cock from her mouth, enjoying the way she still reached out eager to please him or at least to avoid punishment. With just the tip of his dick inside the cavern of pleasure that was her mouth, Jeremiah thrust forward, slamming his cock against the back of her throat. If her technique was better he would have let her just finish him off by herself but he wanted to fuck that pretty little face of hers.

“Look up, you stupid whore,” the Texan bellowed at the girl, “Remember I wanna see those eyes.”

Continuing to thrust forward and back, he swept her hair to one side to gaze into her eyes as he face-fucked her. The girl looked up, her mouth open like an obedient dog, her long eyelashes perfectly framing some stunning sapphire blue eyes that glinted in the light, silently crying for help. Looking down, he was sure she knew by now he wouldn’t show her any mercy, pounding his dick forward and back, his big round belly occasionally obscuring that picture perfect face. Tightly gripping her hair in his hands, he threw his head back in pleasure, the brutal mouth rape filling the room with gagging as he pumped his dick in and out of her.

Having done everything to give him pleasure, Melissa now just knelt obediently and allowed her mouth to be used as a sex toy. She had experienced this a lot over the last three weeks but was still not used to it. It was impossible to believe this could happen to anyone in the 21st century, especially in the United States. Thinking back further, she tried to remember her life before all this suffering. On her application for the generously paid internship, she had felt her life was fantastic. A high achieving student at a prestigious college with a great group of friends, a loving supporting family, a clever boyfriend who was also a very good looking varsity track and field athlete – and then she had got a sought after position in a major corporation, her future life the envy of many contemporaries. Yet all that was gone. One moment she was having coffee with the head of the company and the next she had woken bound and helpless in a dark basement. In the days since, he had raped, tormented, tortured, humiliated and destroyed her, taking away all sense of self worth. Though determined to escape, she knew she would have to bide her time while obeying him as much as possible to avoid his various tortures and punishments. What depressed her most, though, was how arbitrary his painful torments were. Even obeying him completely, doing everything he asked, did not stop him causing her unimaginable pain, her screams of agony and tears of anguish seemingly music to his ears. Being very attractive, she could at least understand why this fat old man would just want to fuck her over and over but that did not explain the terrible tortures he gleefully inflicted or why he spoke to her like she was vermin. All she could do was wait, hoping someone would eventually rescue her from this living hell.

Jeremiah didn’t care what the little bitch thought as he rammed his dick down her throat. All he cared about right now was how her mouth around his dick pushed him closer and closer to climax. With a large groan, he forced his cock down her throat until it was buried right up to the hilt, enjoying the sound of her choking on his dick. His whole body shuddering, both hands forced the girl’s face hard into his crotch as he came, moaning loudly, shooting wads of his jizz down the girl’s spluttering throat and feeling her muscles convulsing around his cock as she tried desperately to breathe, swallowing what she could of his cum just to get some air. He listened as she coughed and spluttered on his cum, laughing as she fought desperately for air. He waited until he was sure she would be frantic with panic before he moved his hips back and allowed the girl some precious oxygen. A thick strand of cum stretched from the tip of his steadily softening cock to her dainty little mouth and more seed dribbled out of her mouth and onto her chin. She coughed again, bringing up more of his viscous discharge from her throat into her mouth. But Jeremiah was not happy.

“Don’t you dare cough that up,” he snarled, the pleasure of his orgasm now replaced by the pleasure of watching her degrade herself, “swallow every last drop. And be grateful, you little bitch.”

Melissa averted her eyes as she swallowed the semen, barely able to hide her disgust. She knew by now that she could only avoid further punishment by swallowing every last morsel of his cum. With her hands tied behind her, she had to use her tongue to swish around her chin to collect all she could. But even when she had, her ordeal did not end. She felt the stubby finger of her tormentor run itself across her face as if she were a child in a high chair, collecting all the spunk she couldn’t reach and scooping it into her mouth. Melissa was forced to humiliatingly suck his finger clean of the cum he had collected, trying not to cough as he forced his index finger and then his middle finger deep into her mouth. He squeezed the end of his dick to milk the last of his cum onto his fingers then once again forced his digits into her mouth, thrusting them back and forth as a pseudo phallus.

“That’s it,” Jeremiah smirked, “I bet you’ve developed quite a taste for cum now, you filthy whore. Show me that it’s all gone.”

With a heavy heart, Melissa steadily looked up at her captor, unsuccessfully attempting to hide her shame. Reluctantly she opened her mouth until eventually she stared up at him with her mouth gaping, her tongue stretched down to her chin. She felt like a dog performing for her owner, an analogy that wasn’t at all erroneous. She stared up at the man’s wrinkled, lecherous face as he brought his hand down and tilted her face from side to side, checking every last crevice of her mouth. Seemingly satisfied he stood up straight, still looking down expectantly at the kneeling girl.

“Come on, bitch,” he said with a flash of anger on his face, “show your fucking gratitude!”

Melissa closed her eyes, ready to deal with yet another act designed to humiliate her. She couldn’t decide which was the worst; the frequent sexual abuse he inflicted on her, the constant physical pain he caused or the psychological torment he put her through that steadily eroded this proud girl’s self esteem. They were all terrible beyond imagining and yet she didn’t need to imagine, they were happening. What made it worse was his appetite seemed to have no end for he continued to plumb new depths of despair that Melissa was constantly surprised she had. She still had a steely resolve to escape and bring him to justice, but she was beginning to question whether she would be here for years. The thought of spending her life in this lecherous fat cunt’s captivity chilled her to her bone. As if reading from a script, Melissa sighed and repeated exactly what he expected from her.

“Thank you for your cum, master.”

“You’re welcome, slave,” Jeremiah replied, “Have you forgotten something?”

With another sigh Melissa leaned forward and, with a delicacy that never failed to please Jeremiah, kissed the end of his cock, which now hung limply against his sagging scrotum. In the life she knew before she would never have thought about going anywhere near this man’s dick but now she had little choice but to virtually worship it. It was scarcely believable how far she’d fallen in just a few short weeks, from a successful and ambitious young woman to nothing more than a sexual slave.

“Good girl.” Jeremiah said patronisingly, patting his slave on the head to reinforce her subordination, “Stand up!”

He barked this last command at her, the transition between his tones shocking even Melissa, despite having grown to expect such raw anger coming from him. She obeyed immediately, struggling to her feet despite not being able to use her hands. Spreading her legs slightly she put out one high heel clad foot. Pausing to compose herself, she pushed up with her foot, rising quickly but unsteadily to both feet, using all her strength to raise herself off the floor. Tottering violently from side to side, she tried to stand up straight and still, desperate to avoid his wrath. The ridiculously tall high heels he had her wear were incredibly difficult to stand still on and she teeter-tottered like a new born gazelle as she stood in front of him, waiting nervously for what he would have her do next.

Jeremiah watched his captive sway from side, struggling to control herself on the stripper heels he forced her to wear. A good six inches high, they made her slightly taller than him but only because he let her. Anything she did was only because he allowed it. He couldn’t believe he had lived without such direct physical power over another person for so long. Moving back to sit on the edge of his desk, his eyes never left the girl standing uncertainly before him. In his life he could recall very few women so gloriously attractive. Everything about her was out of a teenage boy’s wet dream; long shapely legs, a tight arse, a toned flat stomach, dainty hands and feet, a face that could melt hearts and eyes that, for Jeremiah at least, were made to be filled with fear. Her crowning glories though were her breasts. When she had entered his office a month ago, his eyes had been irresistibly drawn to the mounds her crisp white short tried in vain to conceal. It had been all he could do not to leer at them while the stuck up bitch talked shit and it was the first job interview he had ever done with a raging hard on. As she left, he knew he would have to get his hands on those luscious tits, jacking himself off as he thought about squeezing his face between them. His first sight of them free of their fabric prison had been spectacular, each one a pristine example of the perfect breast. Although from a distance her tits seemed only slightly above average on her tall slender athletic body, one hands-on inspection proved this untrue. Checking her bra size confirmed Jeremiah had his very own pair of DDs to play with. And play with them he had. Over the last weeks, he had slapped them, twisted them, bound them, flogged them, slid his dick between them and done all manner of other tortures and torments. Anything he could think to do with those globes he had done, the more pain he caused the better. And now he had another idea.

Although she had done her best not to think about the pain she was in, she now had more time to think of the old man’s lecherous stare as it angrily focussed on her. Despite her blank face attempting to deny her tormentor pleasure, he was certain her body was screaming in pain, especially her much abused breasts. With her arms tied behind her back and her elbows tied tightly together, her tits were thrust out invitingly and he had taken the opportunity to adorn them appropriately. Running along the length of her torso were two leather straps passing on either side of her tits, forcing them together and culminating in one strap at her belly button. A thin strip of leather emanated from there between her pussy lips and along the crack of her arse, up her back before connecting with the rest of the mankini style outfit at her back. On each of her perfect pink nipples was a vicious clamp, biting into the sensitive nub with serrated teeth that did everything but break the skin, and the rest of her sensitive globes were pinched by many coloured plastic clothes pegs. Melissa’s tits had long since gone numb so each clothes peg didn’t cause her pain but gave a tingling undertone to the painful clamps on her nipples. She had been forced to walk round with the strap rubbing her sensitive sex all day, the leather rubbing her pussy lips raw. As well as the current tortures, the aches and pains of the previous few weeks kept her whole body in constant discomfort.

“OK, bitch,” Jeremiah said as he pulled his slacks up and put his shirt back on, “go stand in the fucking corner. Just a few more things to sort out then we can head off. We’ll get you properly trained over there.”

Melissa didn’t know what he was talking about when he mentioned over there, everything was still a shock and she tried to keep her thoughts from running away from her. Slowly, carefully, she stumbled over to the corner he wanted her to stand in, facing the wall so as not to distract her captor from his work. She used to pride herself on being strong and independent but now this intelligent beautiful young woman stood in a corner, naked, bound, tortured and began to weep.

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The smell was first thing that hit Lucy as she walked through the door behind the elegant Asian. Having smelt little but sweat, tears and fear over the last few days, the overpowering aroma of incense and sensual oils was more than welcome, the scent’s strength physically taking her aback. In front of her was a vivid red curtain emblazoned with a golden dragon. Behind it Lucy could hear the sound of Eastern music overlain by the occasional sounds of both men and women howling in apparent ecstasy. She stopped in her tracks as her senses were overwhelmed, halting the woman in front of her. One look of her sultry hazel eyes was enough to stir almost fear in Lucy who without thinking started walking again, still hobbling slightly, behind the black cheongsam. With amazing elegance, a long olive arm reached out and brushed aside the silk curtain hanging from the ceiling.

Lucy gasped at what she saw as she once again followed her guide. She could scarcely believe her eyes as she stumbled through the room, the pace of her tour seemingly slowed to allow her to take it all in. On all sides Lucy could see colours she had almost forgotten existed when she had been in the basement; red, gold, green, blue and royal purple. The scent she had experienced the other side of the curtain was even more powerful here, burning candles on all sides filling the room with the sweet smell of a Turkish bath house. What caught her attention most though was not the smell or the candles. All along the corridor walls were sheer curtains of fabric, behind which were scenes Lucy could scarcely believe, scenes straight out of an adult film, all manner of sex she could possibly imagine in plain view. As she stumbled behind the jasmine scented woman, she saw one man and one woman, two men and a woman, two, three, four women and a man; all possible variations seemed to be on offer. The variety was extraordinary too, from plain sex to combinations of domination and submission which were astounding, especially given the apparent willingness of the participants. Clearly the three girls had been taken not merely by a crazed trio but by some much larger and altogether more sinister operation. A click of the woman’s fingers stopped her from gawping at the sexual sights for too long, snapping her out of her dazed, almost trance like state and forcing her to stumble quickly to keep up. Seeing the end of the corridor, she wondered what new bizarre scenes lay beyond. As the woman brushed it aside Lucy was almost disappointed.

Beyond was another dark corridor, much less impressive than the room of sexual delicacies she had had just come from. What Lucy hadn’t seen in the room was the main entrance to the room, a large circular door which the clients exited and entered from. Despite its grand nature, a heavy set, crimson wooden door emblazoned once again with a large golden dragon, Lucy had failed to spot it, so engrossed was she in the x rated scenes all around her. Behind the scenes was a dark and dingy space that was much more like what she had experienced in her captivity. Without saying a word the elegant figure in front of Lucy continued walking then turned a sharp left to open a heavy wooden door. Lucy had to scamper to get through for she knew it would not be held open for her. As she entered, Lucy was taken aback by what she saw. It was not as dark as the other rooms she had been forced into but bathed in the light of many candles whose smells wafted exquisitely toward her. She could see the walls were a deep red, the dark shadows on the wall flickering in the candlelight. In the centre was a large porcelain bath giving off plumes of steam. Lucy could barely believe her eyes, her instincts telling her not to expect that the freshly run warm bath was for her. She stood still, awaiting instruction from her guide. With an elegant flourish, the dark-haired woman turned to face Lucy, her eyes expressing no emotion whatsoever. A piercing stare captivated Lucy’s attention as she stooped low, attempting to cover her body, a far cry from the proud confident girl of just a few days before.

“You are very lucky,” she spoke with the same practised English as before, everything about her oozing grace and elegance. The woman could see that the young English woman was taken aback by a statement she believed to be so obviously untrue, so she continued, “Mistress has chosen you. You will not be like so many of the girls that come through these doors; a piece of meat for all those old men to fuck and torture.”

Lucy knew the woman was talking about her friends. Clearly what she had watched on television as she was forced to fuck herself with the dildo had been a glimpse into their future, especially now she had seen the scale of the operation they had been brought into. Far from being kidnapped merely for the sick twisted enjoyment of a deranged woman and her obedient lust filled sidekicks, she realised they had been brought in as the newest additions to some underground international sex slave ring. It was like something off the news or some sick and twisted movie. Except that Lucy knew it was totally real and was happening. She listened to what she was hearing but her mind couldn’t help but wander as she contemplated how great was their hopeless situation.

“Instead you will work here,” the woman said with a clinical coldness, “with others who have been chosen. Your job is to please clients any way they like. You will also have the opportunity to assist Mistress and the clients as they have their fun. You will learn everything you need to be successful.”

Lucy was staggered at what she was hearing, yet she couldn’t help but be relieved at what she knew she was avoiding. As bad as she felt for her friends, she was relieved not to be perpetually subjected to what she had experienced and seen in that dungeon. It was almost as if, even this early, she was accepting her fate and learning to enjoy her new surroundings. She felt terrible thinking it but she felt some pride in being picked out as special. And as much as she knew she was analysing her situation too much, she was pleased to have escaped the situation she had been in. Indeed she was so relieved she wouldn’t be bent over and fucked with clamps on her nipples that she completely missed being expected to aid in torturing girls just like her friends.

“First you must be bathed and scented,” the woman continued, “then we can begin.”

With that, the elegant woman ushered her toward the steaming tub. Looking at it, Lucy’s mind raced, feeling as if she were betraying her friends by accepting this hospitality, giving her captors a legitimacy they didn’t deserve. Yet the water was so inviting and now she thought about it, the stench she gave off as well as the smell of sex from her genitals was obvious. One tentative step at a time, she inched toward the bathtub, each step a silent betrayal of her previous life. Closing her eyes, Lucy thought about what she was doing, feeling as if being drawn toward the bath accepted the situation she was in. But the combination of her discomfort and fear of refusing made her move inexorably toward the warm water. The scent of jasmine wafted tantalisingly as she approached the side of the white porcelain tub, her eyes opening enough to see rose petals littering the water’s surface. It was a luxurious ablution Lucy hadn’t been used to even when free. Approaching the first step, she slowly raised her foot and put it down. Her legs ached something ferocious and the water pulled her irresistibly. Moving faster, she scaled the steps until level with the water’s surface then took a deep breath and stepped forward.

As the water lapped her ankle, Lucy sighed.