Chapter 49

It was the 20th of March 2017. It was a special day, the first Capture Day for Darya, and Pembroke was excited to celebrate it. Not only that but it was doubling for Sophie’s eighteenth birthday party which occurred the same week!

As Darya gazed at the picture of Sophie on the wall, a sense of foreboding washed over her at the approaching anniversary. In the picture, Sophie was naked in nothing but a pair of tiny blue panties that matched her eyes, her small flat breasts a stark contrast to her current fleshy orbs. The sexual nature of the picture had long lost any shock value to Darya for obvious reasons. To her, the image captured her imagination of Sophie’s free youth perfectly—the red hair, the sprinkle of freckles across her nose, the infectious smile that lit up her face. In the photo, Sophie was frozen in time as a carefree teenager, surrounded by posters, school materials, and all the trappings of youthful innocence. Sophie had grown taller, her figure fuller, but the spark in the picture had dimmed, replaced by a haunting emptiness. Despite the brilliance of Sophie’s blue eyes, Darya couldn’t imagine ever seeing the sparkle that she saw in the picture.

Darya was terrified she would succumb to the same fate—that the effects of her incarceration would strip away all her vitality, leaving behind only a hollow shell of her former self. She was her mother’s only child, she had to live, and yet this was all life had to offer her, this sex dungeon from hell.

Pembroke had planned the part with meticulous detail according to his own twisted fantasies. He was dressed in a dressing gown with nothing on underneath but a thong as he watched the two girls.

Darya stood with her dark, flowing hair cascading down her shoulders, looking ethereal in a frilly blue and white dress adorned with delicate bows and ribbons. The dress accentuated her slender frame, while an alice band added a playful touch, betrayed somewhat by the metal piercings adorning her face.

Beside her, Sophie’s flaming red hair provided a striking contrast against her pale skin. Her slim figure was accentuated by a short, tight black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. With heels adding five inches to her height, she towered over her more innocent-looking friend. Black stockings and suspenders added a hint of seduction to her ensemble, peeking out below her hemline, creating a captivating juxtaposition with Darya’s innocent charm. Red lipstick added a mature touch in keeping with Sophie’s landmark birthday.

Both girls wore shock collars around their necks.

“You both look fabulous. Today is a celebration. In years gone by someone like Genghis Khan would take hundreds of women, and rape them or keep them as sex slaves and people worshipped him. Well, I’ve managed two.” Pembroke giggled at the comparison.

“You two are witness to and the products of my adventures. I don’t feel bad about it. I am sorry for your families but I saw you both and I took you both. Every man out there would have done the same if they had a fraction of my capabilities.”

The girls tried not to glance at each other. Any smirk or giggle now might warrant severe punishment from this maniac when he was in this mood.

“A year ago, there was a little flower wandering through the air to England. I took it, and I kept it. Darya, you are that flower. I am keeping you here for myself. You and Sophie are my life, I am your keeper, your daddy, but I swear I will look after you.”

The two girls knew not to interrupt. Both remembered their brief experiences of the real Pembroke outside, the shy, nervous old man who had seemed harmless and almost pitiable until it had been too late. This fantasist in front of them was a mad bully, and the gates and doors behind him guarded him from the outside world as much as it kept the girls in.

“Darya you have come on well. Sorry about your tooth, but it looks cute. You are growing well, and your sexual performances have been outstanding. Sophie you have taught her well. Sophie, you are a woman now, and so I look forward to how our relationship develops...”

Pembroke looked at Sophie. He was now fifty nine years old. Was she really thinking now Sophie was eighteen she would be more attracted to him?

The truth was that Pembroke was losing touch with reality when underground. He had put on an act of a megalomaniac to frighten and order the girls around but had become that personality. But the meek Pembroke was still his character as he taught at school and he was worried that his Jekyll and Hyde character would cause him some problems. On more than one occasion, he had stood over cute young schoolgirls, shouting at them, instinctively wanting to order them to bend over their table and pull their skirts up, and had to check himself.

Having two teenage sex slaves presented a serious break to reality for someone like Edward Pembroke.

He rambled on, and asked Darya about her hopes for the next year.

“I hope you die. I hope me and Sophie get out of here.”

Sophie gasped, in her sweet dress, the words felt even more violent from the brown girl.

“Yes I thought so” Pembroke mused. “I know you don’t love me. I love you, but I will never trust you.

Suddenly Sophie grunted and shook violently, gripping her neck.

“You will apologize to me, or I will keep hurting Sophie.”

Darya bunched her fists as Sophie caught her breath and the shock subsided. There was silence and Pembroke pressed the button on another level.

As the buzz surged through her body, Sophie’s reaction was immediate and visceral. With a wild thrash of her red hair, she let out a piercing scream, her voice reverberating off the walls as she fought to maintain her balance on her heels. Her hands flew to her neck, fingers grappling with the invisible force that gripped her, as her body contorted with convulsions. White flesh above her stocking tops displayed itself as she moved around in a very unladlylike fashion.

Darya had an angry look on her face, and fought to control her tears. Pembroke lay back, his large body, meathook arms, sat back on his chair, his eyes daring her to make a move. He was ready, he did not want to mark her, but was prepared to chip or knock out another tooth if she dared to approach him.