Chapter 21 - A working girl

Jack Harris had drunk even more last night after his chance meeting with Faris Rahma. He couldn’t get the beautiful women he saw on every street out of his mind as he walked around. Lust overpowered him, and he leered at the pretty Turkish girls and tourists who veered away from him, intimidated by the large fifty-something American.

On his return to the hotel, Harris booked a high-end escort to get the crazy ideas out of his head.

Zeynep Yildiz was just like other 20-year-old girls in Istanbul. Her job at the electronics store complemented her studies at the Technical University of Engineering. On the side, she did high-end escorting, making the most of her slim, tall figure, elegant brown hair, and dark Asiatic eyes.

Beneath the makeup and her short but elegant black cocktail dress, Zeynep was a bundle of nerves. She hoped her meeting with this wealthy American would go well. As she thought about the money, she reassured herself, as always, that this would be the last time.

She smiled primly as she entered the hotel room, desperately trying to mask her fear and disgust. The man in the dressing gown grinned like a predatory wolf, patting the bed beside him. She swallowed her indignity, fighting the urge to shudder.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Zeynep ... Zeynep,” she stammered, her voice quivering with nervousness.

“And you’re experienced, right?” the man asked, his voice thick with lust. He barely glanced at her face, his eyes hungrily roaming over her figure. “You know I paid good money for you, so I want my money’s worth.”

Zeynep tried to smile, “Yes, sir, anything you want,” she replied, desperately attempting to sound seductive.

The truth was, her nervousness, which she couldn’t hide, turned the American on even more. He didn’t want an experienced hooker; he had enough of those.

Zeynep began by stripping off, giving him a little striptease, and then straddling him. She kept reassuring herself, “This is a prestigious hotel in Istanbul. I won’t be hurt here, surely. The agency is respectable.”

Harris admired her expensive, classy lingerie, marveling at her tight young body. Her delicate, thin frame featured taut skin that hugged every contour of her slim figure. Prominent collarbones led down to her grapefruit-size breasts and narrow waist. Each movement accentuated the sleek lines of her body.

Zeynep used her mouth on the American’s erect cock. Imitating scenes from countless porn movies she had watched, she gazed seductively into his eyes while she licked the underside of his glans. She was torn between half-enjoying the act and desperately hoping he would cum quickly so her appointment would end early.

She sat on his cock after putting a condom on him, going through the motions with practiced ease. Relying on her youth, beauty, and tight vagina, she worked to get his cock rock hard inside her. She pumped his cock rhythmically, hoping to bring the encounter to a swift conclusion.

Harris came into the condom inside her, then made the young girl lie on his chest for a while as he thought deeply. Zeynep expected the usual spiel about his family and his regrets about doing this kind of thing.

“Istanbul, wow. As a Turk, have you heard about the history of the harem, about sex slaves?”

“No,” said Zeynep, wondering where this was going.

“All the Sultans and many rich Turks used to keep slave girls, to do with what they wanted. Maybe your great-grandmother was one. Fascinating, don’t you think? Do you think they’ll ever bring that back here?”

“Well, sir, women do have rights here,” she chided him, half playfully, half fearfully. “This is 21st century Turkey.”

“Men are men, though, and women are women,” said Harris whimsically, as he idly stroked her buttocks, lost in thought. He thought of the money he had paid in order to place his hand there. In a few hours, out on the streets, this delicate young girl could get him thrown in prison if he did the same thing to her. It felt wrong - to him.

“Imagine if you were with your family, and some Turkish warriors swept you away, killed your family. How would you have felt, serving your superiors, having to have sex with them whenever they wanted?”

“I wouldn’t like it,” Zeynep replied, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and uninterested in the conversation.

“I would never be a slave,” said Harris, almost to himself. “Neither would anyone in my family. But some people are born to be slaves. There should be a natural order. Damn this world, I was born in the wrong time.” He looked at his own large, muscular body and the delicate slip of a girl next to him, noticing her frightened brown eyes.

“I think you would make a lovely harem girl,” he smiled.

“Yes, well, I am going to be an engineer, sir. I’m putting myself through college. No harem for me!” she replied, forcing a smile to hide her discomfort.

‘I am paying for this bitch’s education,’ thought Harris to himself. This girl would grow up to be another annoying female middle manager. Her place should be in the home, and if not safely locked up there, at some other man’s feet. He suddenly became annoyed that he had to pay for something that his strong, masculine nature should grant him by right.

“I want to continue. But I want to play with some bondage.”

“Are you sure ... er ... that might be extra...”

“Fuck that, I paid for you! I get to use you until the time is up!”

Harris grabbed some bedclothes, and Zeynep watched him with shock as he effortlessly ripped the fabric into strips. Her eyes widened in fear as he seized her, a whimper escaping her lips. He put her over his lap. The sensation of the rough fabric binding her wrists and ankles heightened her terror. It was clear from his swift, practiced movements that he could do this a thousand times in his sleep.

“I’d use your panties as a gag, but you are such a whore that these flimsy things wouldn’t stop any screams,” he sneered at her. He stuffed some fabric into her mouth, then wrapped another strip of the pillowcase around her head to secure the gag. Her eyes followed him in terror as she mumbled and whimpered through the makeshift gag.

Harris looked and felt over her body like it was a cadaver. Now she was completely at his mercy. He brought his mouth down to her slim buttocks, so dainty and delicate, and kissed her taut flesh. He sucked the skin into his mouth, then harder, before biting down hard. Zeynep’s muffled whimpers grew louder as she struggled against her bindings. Harris turned on the TV and cranked up the volume to drown out her protestations.

“Hehe, now we can have some real fun,” he laughed.

Harris gripped her rib cage with both hands, pressing in as if testing to see if it would collapse under the pressure, her frame was so slim. He poked his fingers into the insides of her pelvic bones, pressing down on her belly button, marvelling at how petite she was. He revelled in the sight of her large eyes, massive with fear, as he probed around her torso, savoring the feeling of her delicate, thin body beneath his hands.

“Don’t worry, girl,” he said. “You’re in a nice hotel, and I’m flying home today. I’m not gonna butcher you, haha.”

He licked and bit her legs and feet, then moved up to her chest. He sucked and tore at her nipples with his teeth until he could taste blood around her small areolas.

He threw her bound legs up and pulled his head through the gap, looking down at her frightened face as she tried to tell him something. He smiled, knowing exactly what she was trying to convey: ‘Wear a condom.’ Fuck that, he laughed.

He slid his finger inside her, checking to see if she was wet. “I wonder if this turns you on,” he mused, as he casually placed his other hand around her throat. His huge hand squeezed gently and slowly, her breathing becoming labored as her eyes grew even larger, staring at him with veins bulging around her face.

“What is it, baby? Do you want more pressure?” the cruel American smiled. He felt liquid bathe his fingers inside her. It might have been cum, but more likely it was piss; she was losing control of herself, her face turning purple from the lack of oxygen.

He carefully withdrew his fingers and ran his cock inside her pussy, feeling it slide in as her face darkened in color and her body started to shake gently all over, her vaginal walls vibrating against his cock. Gently, he released his grip, and heard the violent rasping as she regained the use of her windpipe, but still kept a firm hold on her neck.

He got into a nice rhythm of fucking her, enjoying this a lot more than the vanilla pounding he had given her half an hour earlier.

“That’s it, baby, feel me inside you. I’m your daddy,” he whispered, his voice dripping with twisted satisfaction.

He leaned down and licked her face like a cow, his tongue rough and invasive, as if trying to hurt her with it. Wishing he could cause more pain, he removed his hand from her throat and bit into it with his teeth, almost piercing the skin with his molars. Zeynep tried to buck around as much as she could, her body writhing in agony.

Harris leaned back again, lifting her buttocks slightly, and removed his cock from her pussy, lowering it to her puckered anus. Zeynep closed her eyes as she felt the helmet push against her forbidden hole. She tried to fight it, but Harris spat down and roughly shoved one, then two, then three fingers into her ass. Her back arched in desperation, trying to cope with the pain shooting up inside her. But this only gave him a better angle to force his cock up and inside her anus.

“Oh yeah,” he shouted as he fucked her up the ass, forcing her tits to jiggle in front of him. Her face was turned to the side, eyes shut, surrendering to the pain and humiliation and just praying he would let her go, alive.

He came with a roar up her ass and then pushed her off the bed in triumph. She landed on her head, her hair sticking to her face in a tangled mess as she lay on the floor, struck still in fright.

Harris looked down at his conquest, meekly shivering and sobbing, his marks of violence all over her. He went to the shower to clean himself, leaving her tied up.

He dressed himself quickly, realizing he should get out of there before the police got involved.

“All right, girl, that was fun. Here, have another 500 for your troubles,” he said, throwing the money on the floor. “But you better keep quiet. Nobody cares about a two-bit whore who gets slapped around.”

He released her, correctly guessing she would just continue sobbing quietly and meekly.

“Get dressed, you little bitch. I’m going to check out now. But those panties are mine. You can get home with my cum leaking down that slutty dress and down your thighs,” he sneered, pocketing her slinky black thong and looking forward to sniffing it all day.

Harris was dressed and ready to go. His flight was booked, and his business was all done. Soon, he would be back with his wife and four kids on the ranch in North Florida.

“Christ! Girl, walk straight, and stop sniffling! You make it seem like you’ve been brutally raped!” he laughed at her.

The hotel staff looked disapprovingly at Zeynep as she walked sheepishly through the lobby in her short black dress, trying to pull it down, her hair a mess, her face red with tears and exertion. The pain between her legs was making every step a difficulty, she was sure there would be blood flowing down her thighs soon. She could feel the rashes on her neck, her breasts, and her ass. Her neck would soon be a mass of bruises. How could she explain that?