Chapter 14 - Diafthora

Fourteen 18-year-olds from Willowbridge High School had excitedly booked a wild holiday together, seven boys and seven girls, to the infamous Greek party resort island of Diafthora. Among them was Holly Streatham, a beautiful and bookish girl who most of the boys fancied. Holly, with her slim figure, five-foot-five frame, and captivating brown hair and eyes, was eager to embrace adulthood, dance, and drink the nights away.

Despite the group’s enthusiasm for partying and sleeping with each other, Holly remained more reserved. While her friends flaunted their thong bikinis and indulged in the debauchery, Holly’s shyness and reluctance kept her from joining in on the romantic escapades, making her all the more alluring to the boys around her.

“Come on, Holly ... Josh really fancies you. Why don’t you just put it out for tonight? I might bring back two guys tonight,” her roommate Sally teased, dressed in nothing but a minuscule yellow thong, spreading sun lotion all over her bare breasts. Holly blushed and looked at her phone, feeling embarrassed. Unlike Sally’s daring attire, Holly wore a more conservative red bikini with full-coverage bottoms, betraying her reluctance to join in the wild atmosphere

“I just want to dance to the music, I don’t want to sleep with anyone here!” Holly insisted, her conservative nature growing stronger with each day she spent on Diafthora.

“Why don’t I rub some sun lotion on you? Might loosen you up,” Sally teased, playfully spraying some lotion on Holly and running her hands over her legs. Holly giggled, “Sally, get off me, haha!” The two girls play-wrestled, nearly naked, on the bed. Holly eventually relented and hid her face in her arms to hide her embarrassment and secret pleasure while Sally ran her hands all over her firm thighs and buttocks, humming contentedly. Holly wondered if she should have some more wine this time, and let things happen, she might enjoy this holiday after all.

A few hundred miles away, six girls were dressed in even less and definitely not enjoying themselves. Mrs Al-Haraz had them lined up, naked as usual. She was in her black mini dress, with black lipstick and makeup, carrying a light switch, swishing it through the hair. She spoke in Arabic and broken English.

“OK, now we do all six! This time, no mistakes OK?” She put her hands on her hips, her voice menacing.

“Down Dog! Al-kalb al-munhani!” They all quickly moved into the downward dog pose. They planted their hands and feet firmly on the ground, forming an inverted V shape. Sabine struggled, her legs slightly bent. “Straight legs, Sabine!” barked Mrs. Al-Haraz, as the tall German girl grunted, breathing deeply, trying to push her heels closer to the ground, feeling the stretch in her hamstrings.

After a minute, she shouted again. “Submission! Al-istislam!” Immediately, the girls dropped to their knees, sitting back on their heels with their backs straight, and their palms facing up resting on their thighs. Fatima had a slight slouch in her back, feeling the pain from the whip marks still hurting her. She concentrated hard, adjusting her posture to straighten her spine, feeling her overseer’s judgmental eye on her.

“Hold! Al-tamassuk!” The girls stood with their legs apart, bending into a 90-degree squat. Their backs remained straight as they placed their hands behind their heads. Anna found it hard to keep her back straight, trembling slightly as she held the squat. “Keep that back straight, Anna!” commanded Mrs. Al-Haraz. Anna gritted her teeth, determined to maintain the position, her thighs burning from the effort.

The Yemeni woman smiled as she paused, waiting for the first girl to fail, relishing the vibrating thighs and knees in front of her and the gasps of effort. It was Anna who gave up first, despite being so used to skiing in that position, prompting a whack on her hips from Mrs Al-Haraz.

“OK, Worship! Al-ibadah!” The girls were grateful for the release and went to their knees and stretched their arms far in front until their breasts touched the ground, placing their hands wide apart. Zara had a hard time keeping her arms straight, struggling to push her broken nose to the ground, feeling the pain. “Put your face to the ground Zara!” Mrs. Al-Haraz’s voice cut through the air. Zara tried to focus on her breathing, inching her hands forward and arching her back to achieve the pose, trying to ignore the pain.

“Cat! Al-qiṭ!” They moved to their hands and knees, lifting their buttocks and arching their backs. Charlotte felt the strain in her lower back, struggling to lift her head high and arch her back properly. “Higher, Charlotte!” Mrs. Al-Haraz’s strict tone was relentless. Charlotte took deep breaths, trying to ease the tension and improve her form, gazing at the black emptiness of the ceiling.

“Bridge! Al-jisr!” The girls pushed up into a bridge position bending backwards, their feet and hands on the ground, supporting their arched bodies. Camille, the gymnast, held the pose effortlessly, her body forming a perfect arch with her pelvic bones facing the ceiling. “Perfect form, Camille,” Mrs. Al-Haraz acknowledged, albeit with a stern nod. Camille did not smile and struggled to stay in position as she felt a finger from the Yemeni trace her pussy lips in this vulnerable position.

“Hmmm, the hair is growing back. More electrolysis today I think. OK, girls, you can finish, well done. But soon you will have to do the handstand. You are beautiful athletic girls and must learn to please your owners!”

The girls were grateful for a break and led back into the cell. They had spent hours learning the positions, practicing and being beaten when failing to remember or perfect them. And this was only the beginning. Handstands? Cartwheels? Only Camille found them all easy.

In the cell, the atmosphere was depressed, sour, and angry.

“I cannot go on, cousin,” Zara said to Fatima. “I don’t want this anymore. Look at my mouth, my nose. When the Master returns, he will punish me even more. I have to get out of here!”

“Zara, please, think of my daughter, think of your family, think of me. Look at my back, I am getting punished too,” Fatima pleaded.

“I am the one who has to live this life, and I cannot. I have tried. I need to do something to escape from here, and if I cannot escape, then I don’t want to live. I’m ugly now anyway, look what that brute did to me.” Zara shivered she spoke, watching the evil gaolors walk off.

Charlotte was complimenting Camille on her acrobatic poses with a slight smile.

“Thanks, Charlotte. But it’s not what I want to do with my skills. I thought I might have a chance at the Olympics growing up. Now all I will be is a doll that can do tricks for some ... animal. My life means nothing. My parents, they love me so much, everything they gave me, that beast is going to hoover up.”

Charlotte started to cry. “I’m so sorry, I understand. All my years of dreaming I was going to be someone, and that ... that pervert just snatched me. I have nightmares thinking of what my parents are going through. I only pray they never find out what became of me!”

The two hugged and their tears dripped down onto each other’s backs.

Sabine and Anna were having a tenser conversation.

“He couldn’t get to me, Sabine. I was on his list, but he couldn’t kidnap me. He tried impersonating a sports marketer, he must have tried so hard. But I’m not stupid, and my father was so protective. The only time I left him was to go on that hiking trip with you. That bastard saw my weak spot. You.”

Sabine was taken aback. “I cannot believe you blame me! He kidnapped both of us!”

“That monster, Dmitri, you got him out of prison, like an idiot. You allowed the Master to track you with your own pendant.”

“Anna, it was your idea to go to the lake!”

“If I had never met you, I would not be here. My father could have protected me. If I had a boyfriend and not a girl like you—useless—then maybe he could have saved me. You are naïve; you let them fool you. Well, I guess you pay the price too, but still, I feel like a fool for my relationship with you.”

“Anna! You cannot mean that!” Sabine was sobbing, she could not believe her girlfriend was turning against her.

“I am glad we are being sold separately, Sabine, at least I will not be reminded of the reason I got taken!” Anna was glaring at her lover now with open hostility.

Sabine withdrew to a corner of the cell and huddled with her head between her knees. The German girl wanted to believe it was not just because Anna was on her period that she was so wayward. The Swiss girl tried not to think of her family, and her life outside, but struggled to think of anything positive about her situation.

Mrs. Parker entered the hall with Dmitri, wheeling a surgical table and the electrolysis equipment. Dmitri opened the cell door. “All right, ladies, Mrs. Al-Haraz noticed that you all had some body hair growing back, so it’s time to get rid of it! Charlotte, you are up first, come on, hop up and let me strap you in!” Mrs. Parker adopted a cheery, matronly voice and smile, dressed in her short mock nurse’s uniform, the breastline and hemline outrageously revealing.

Charlotte hesitated, fear evident in her eyes. Mrs. Parker’s forced cheerfulness only made the situation more surreal and terrifying. With trembling legs, Charlotte moved toward the table, her steps slow and reluctant.

“That’s a good girl,” Mrs. Parker cooed, as she helped Charlotte onto the table. “Now, just lie back and relax. We’ll have you all smooth and clean in no time.”

Charlotte was first strapped in on her stomach, her legs spread wide apart, giving Mrs. Parker clear access to her nether regions for the hair removal. Mrs. Parker ran her hands all over her body, searching for hairs to be treated.

Charlotte clenched her fists, her body tense with fear and humiliation. She could feel every touch as Mrs. Parker’s hands moved methodically over her skin, pausing whenever she found a patch of hair that needed treatment.

The electrolysis equipment buzzed to life, and Charlotte braced herself for the pain. Each zap felt like a burning needle, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The process was slow and meticulous, with Mrs. Parker taking her time to ensure every hair was treated.

Dmitri approached Mrs. Parker, interrupting her and whispering something in her ear. Mrs. Parker looked over at Sabine and Anna, who were standing at opposite ends of the cell.

“Anna and Sabine, my dears,” Mrs. Parker called out in her falsely sweet voice. “Dmitri has suggested you put on a show for us while this treatment is taking place. It will be a chance for you to show affection for each other. Why don’t you come to the center of the room?”

Sabine and Anna’s blood ran cold. They knew it was an order. They didn’t want to talk to each other, let alone do this, in front of everyone.

Reluctantly, they walked toward the center of the room, their steps slow and heavy with dread. The tension between them was palpable, and the thought of being forced to perform in front of their captors was almost too much to bear.

Mrs. Parker’s eyes sparkled with a twisted delight as she watched them approach. “Come now, no need to be shy. Show us just how much you care for each other.”

Sabine’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at Anna. The bitterness and blame from their earlier argument still hung between them, but in this moment, they were united in their shared horror. Anna’s face was a mask of resignation, her eyes hollow with despair.

They reached the center of the room and stood there, unsure of what to do. Dmitri’s cold gaze was fixed on them, his presence a constant threat.

“Dmitri wants to see a 69 between you, on the floor.”

“Please, we don’t want to do this,” Sabine pleaded, her voice trembling.

“Do as you’re told,” Mrs. Parker snapped, her cheerful facade slipping to reveal the cruelty beneath. “Or there will be consequences.”

With no other choice, Sabine and Anna lay down. Sabine lay flat on her back, while Anna gingerly moved over her, robotically. She could still recall the joy of doing this in the outside world, but now, under the watchful eyes of their captors, the act was an awful reminder of everything they had lost.

Mrs Parker felt some sympathy for the girls, but they were gay, they should enjoy this, especially compared to other tortures. “Come on girls, let’s see those tongues in pussies!”

Like Anna, Sabine was on her period. Before the kidnapping, they had laughed at how synchronized they were, thinking it was a sign they were meant for each other. Now, it just meant they would both be forced to taste the disgusting metallic blood oozing from their pussies for the entertainment of these evil bastards. A few minutes ago, Anna had sworn she would never talk to Sabine again, now she was confronted with the familiar sight of her pussy lips, smeared with blood, forced to eat it. She in turn felt the familiar tongue inside her, sighed, and returned the favour.

Sabine had been hurt badly by Anna’s rejection but now got no pleasure from licking her lover. The sour taste of her period blood blocked all happy smells and sensations she had experienced in happier times. Both licked and cried quietly, while Dmitri watched on, playing with his cock.

Mrs Parker continued with Charlotte’s body, working over from head to toe, feeling the twitches and twerks in the young girl’s body. Unlike the girls, she could admit there were parts of this job she was growing to love.

Meanwhile, Pembroke and the two men were enjoying the lovely nubile bodies of the Swedish sisters Ingrid and Freja. A few days ago, the girls had dreamt of braving the harsh North Sea and making a brave statement, terrified of the dark waters. Now, they were facing the sparkling blue waters of the Mediterranean, bent over the rails of the Zephyr, as they were each being anally raped by Kwame and Dmitri. Pembroke had ordered that their vaginas be entered with nothing more than one finger, lest the Crown Prince be disappointed with the lack of virginity of his youngest slaves. But assholes, he reminded his men, recovered more easily and had less of the stigma of reproductive betrayal, and so these were fine to indulge in.

Of course, the pain was not any less for the girls, as the huge cocks of the men entered them with minimal lubricant. Fortunately they never had to sit down, as the tight compartment meant they just stood up leaning on the walls and on each other. Their assholes, permanently on fire now, were not the only holes to be abused. The gags meant they could not speak to each other at all, and were only removed when for feeding, watering, and for cocks being placed into them.

Kwame and Dmitri had longed to get their hands on the blonde girls properly having endured a 30 hour drive, only having a brief sight of their bare skin when opening up the boxes to see their painfully contorted forms, to feed them and wash their excretions away from between their legs. Now, holding their perky breasts, and meandering their hands across their beautiful silky smooth skin, they could have their reward. Even the badly performed blowjobs felt like heaven as they cradled the fine soft blonde heads of the beauties.

“Poor girls” smiled Pembroke, as he watched the girls be re-gagged, and re-bound ready to be placed back in the compartment. “A yacht on the Mediterranean is most girls’ idea of a perfect holiday, but for you, it must be hell! Don’t worry, you will be trained well in the use of your mouths and assholes when we get you to my base, it will get easier. For now, my main focus is on getting you girls there!”

The girls looked at the monster, realizing this was the same Edward Pembroke who had cajoled them into the enterprise in the first place, who must have planned this whole kidnapping for at least weeks. He had gleefully taunted them that the body of their friend Sara had been found. The Johanssen girls were still missing presumed drowned, and stormy weather had hindered further searches. It had sparked a huge political backlash with people blaming NATO for provoking such a dangerous demonstration from idealistic young people. Others blamed the stupid woke idiots for their own demise. Others hinted at a conspiracy by the military complex to spoil the protest and possibly murder the girls, with rumours that a figure in black had been seen coming ashore in the early hours of the same morning, close by where the boat was eventually found, but these were dismissed as politically motivated fantasies.

Pembroke smiled at the saucer shaped blue eyes of the girls as they looked up at him as he eased the cover over their compartment, confining them to hours more of darkness alone. Their slim smooth tight bodies were such a contrast to the lovely Sheila Johnson, but he had enjoyed sex with all of them. He still noted with a determination that he could fit a third girl in with the Swedish girls, and, thinking of the money, realized he must start thinking of getting more girls on each venture.

Suddenly, the boat engine started to cut out. “Kwame, what is wrong?” Pembroke’s voice was edged with panic. What if they needed rescuing? He would be forced to release his precious cargo to the bottom of the ocean! All the hard work and money spent would be wasted, and the Crown Prince’s orders would be broken. The thought of the Crown Prince withholding half of his original asking price made Pembroke’s palms sweat.

Kwame furrowed his brow as he quickly checked the engine. “I’m not sure, sir. It could be a problem with the fuel line or the engine itself. I’ll need a few minutes to diagnose it.”

Pembroke watched anxiously as Kwame worked, his mind racing. He couldn’t afford to have the yacht stranded, especially with the girls on board.

Eventually, Kwame realized the problem. There was a leak. He had some replacement fuel, but he would need to check in somewhere to fix it before that fuel leaked out. Then they would need more fuel. They needed to land somewhere to do this.

“Where is the nearest port?” asked Pembroke, his anxiety palpable.

“Diafthora,” said Kwame. “We should only need a few hours there, and we can take off. It’s safe enough; they will not check anything. I’ve often landed there with drug shipments. It’s a party island full of tourists!”

Pembroke nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Make it happen, Kwame. We can’t afford to have any nosy police see our girls!”

Kwame set a course for Diafthora, the yacht turning towards the island.

As they approached, the vibrant lights and sounds of the party island came into view.

“Make sure to wash, feed, and water the girls before we are in sight of the harbour” warned Pembroke. The men obliged. Ingrid and Freja looked vainly at the lights ahead of them. They could hear dance music, and the faint sound of shrieking and cars, the sounds of people enjoying themselves. If only they could scream for help. This vision of normal life and joy, within reach, seemed so cruel, compounded when they were roughly retied and gagged and dumped back into the darkness of their compartment.

As Kwame moored the yacht, Pembroke was pleased no note no one bothered to check them. Kwame went to work, to find fuel and some materials to fix the yacht. Dmitri agreed to stay with the yacht, ready to act in case anyone became too nosy. Pembroke decided he would go for a walk, stretch his legs, and enjoy the sights and sounds of the young revellers enjoying themselves.

Pembroke sat enjoying a beer in the town square, watching the scene unfold around him. The older Greeks were eating and drinking with their families, engaged in lively conversations and sharing laughter. They exuded a sense of tradition and warmth that was deeply rooted in their culture.

In stark contrast, the rowdy young English holidaymakers were roaring and screaming, their behaviour chaotic and unruly. The girls wore outrageously short hot pants and skirts, while the men were mostly shirtless, showing off their sunburned torsos. Their boisterous behaviour amused Pembroke, but he also noticed the looks of disgust and fear from the Greek families. The older generation cast disapproving glances at the wild antics of the tourists, clearly uncomfortable.

Pembroke soon found a large group of about a dozen young English tourists, who all looked about eighteen, half boys and half girls, sitting at the table behind him. He was about to move but was curious about the dynamics between them. Each girl seemed immature but dressed provocatively, like fresh meat, while the boys were loud but revealed an awkwardness beneath their bravado. It became clear they all went to the same high school together.