Chapter 27

Sheila Johnson couldn’t tear her envious eyes away from her 18-year-old daughter, Cassie, who lounged effortlessly in her red bikini top, engrossed in “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin.” Cassie’s lithe, flawless figure seemed to taunt Sheila, making her painfully aware of her own imperfections. Sheila glanced down at her own blue bikini, feeling a wave of anxiety as she noticed her stomach spilling slightly over the waistband, a stark contrast to Cassie’s flat, toned abdomen.

The summer had been a whirlwind of indulgence, filled with too much alcohol and rich food, and Sheila could see the effects in the mirror every day. The thought of her husband’s infidelity gnawed at her—he hoped his affair with that whore in Dallas had been worth it-the tens of thousands of dollars he had paid to fund her and Cassie’s European escapade had been fun for her though.

“I’m going for a run, honey,” Sheila announced, trying to suppress the jealousy that flared up as she looked at Cassie’s perfect body, which seemed to require no effort to maintain.

“Sure, Mom!” Cassie replied, barely glancing up from her book.

Their small cottage, surrounded by woods on the edge of a peninsula near Ayia Napa in Cyprus, felt like a strange choice to Cassie, who was a little put out that there was no wifi or internet coverage. Sheila had been deliberately vague about why they were there.

As Sheila jogged through the dense trees, her skin glistening with sweat, her thoughts were consumed by Edward Pembroke. She longed for him, her heart racing not just from the run but from the anticipation of seeing him again. Edward had recommended this secluded spot, and Sheila had kept their upcoming rendezvous a secret from Cassie. The image of his yacht appearing on the horizon and the prospect of seeing his tall, dark, and handsome figure again filled her with a mix of excitement and anxiety. She desperately hoped she would look good enough for him, that he would still find her attractive despite the toll the summer had taken on her body.

Edward Pembroke’s yacht was, indeed, nearby, though it was a stark contrast to the serene atmosphere at the Johnsons’ pleasant holiday cottage. While Sheila and Cassie enjoyed the quiet, natural beauty of their secluded retreat, Dilan Talebani was undergoing a brutal introduction to her new life.

She had been shocked when the gentle Karim had suddenly punched her. The sight of his twisted, aggressive features as the air was knocked out of her had been like a bolt of lightning. Her confusion only deepened when she was tied up roughly and driven to the tall giant with a deformed face. Watching her clothes being switched with those of an equally deformed woman had added to the surreal nightmare.

Since then, she had been locked in a box, the sensation of being at sea adding to her terror. She was eventually forced into a tight compartment, gagged and bound, with the sea visible through the glass beneath her. Her fears of being targeted were true. Who really was this Karim? Who were these people?

The compartment door above her head was suddenly opened, and light cascaded in, blinding her momentarily. Rough hands reached down, gripping her under her armpits, and lifted her off her feet like a doll. Naked and exposed, she couldn’t cover herself with her hands tied behind her back. Her eyes, a mixture of fear and defiance, darted around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She knew she had to stay alert and keep her wits about her.

As her eyes adjusted to the daylight, the figure of the man she knew as Karim came into focus. But now, he looked entirely different. The paunch she remembered was gone, replaced by a leaner, stronger frame. He seemed taller, more imposing, and without his glasses, his features appeared cruel and sharper. All traces of the gentle, friendly persona had vanished. The transformation was shocking. She struggled to reconcile this new, menacing figure with the Karim she thought she knew.

“It’s a pity the world never got to hear your world exclusive about those missing girls, Dilan. Instead, you are going to join them, and the world will hear about what a tragedy it was that you died at such a young age in a car crash.”

Pembroke relished the shocked expression on her face, contemplating whether to pull out the gag. His eyes wandered down to her proud, trembling breasts, where a cascade of saliva trailed from her gagged mouth, forming a web-like pattern over her chest. A moment of panic gripped him as he noticed for the first time her pierced belly button—something Zara’s corpse did not have. But otherwise, her beautiful olive-skinned body was just like Zara’s.

“Let’s see what other piercings you might be hiding...” Pembroke lunged forward, sliding his hand between her legs. She jumped back instinctively, but Pembroke grabbed her shoulders, preventing her from throwing herself off the yacht. Her eyes were wide and large, pools of defiance, fear, shock, and confusion. Pembroke savored staring into them as he fingered her labia, attempting to decipher the tumultuous emotions swirling within.

He decided that Dilan needed a clear lesson about her new life before any sensible conversation could be had, and that lesson was sex and violence.

“You know, Dilan, I’m not a filmmaker, and I’m not Karim Al-Faraj, and I’m certainly not gay,” he whispered in her ear, his voice dripping with malice. “However, I do like to indulge in some ... anal sex from time to time.”

As he said this, he brought a hand behind her and placed it between her buttocks. Her eyes widened with terror, the reality of his words sinking in.

With one hand, he gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. With the other, he brought it to his mouth, spat on it, and then returned it between her buttocks, pushing a finger roughly into her anus. His nose pressed against hers, their faces inches apart, as she recoiled in discomfort at the intrusion.

Pembroke flipped her around and pulled her to her knees, then pushed her forward so her head banged on the deck. He raised her ass high and spread her legs in front of him, positioning her exactly as he wanted.

Dilan moaned in pain as she felt his hard cock press against the tight opening of her asshole. She whimpered in agony as it forced its way in, tearing through her tight walls and plunging deep into her insides.

Pembroke dug his nails into her back and shoulders, not caring about the pain he caused. She was so slim and had so little to hold onto that he had to dig deep into her taut skin. Dilan was pushed back and forth by his movements, each thrust of his cock sending waves of pain through her bumhole and deep into her guts. Through squinted eyes, she looked out at the clear azure sky—a beautiful vista that only emphasized how far from safety and help she was. In the distance, she saw the shore of an island, desperately clinging to the hope that help might be at hand. She prayed for rescue.

On that shore, Sheila was running along the clifftop, her body pouring with sweat. She looked out to sea, and her stomach flipped when she saw a white yacht. “It must be Edward,” she thought. “Oh my God.” She realized she needed to get back to the cottage and get ready. She wished she had brought the binoculars to confirm, but they were back at the cottage. Oh well, she would run back now. She was sure it was him, and her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing her love again.

Cassie was puzzled to see her mother sprinting to finish her run, huffing and puffing as she disappeared into the cottage to shower. As Cassie looked out to sea, she spotted a yacht. Curious, she brought out her binoculars and saw a man in a white shirt and trousers crouching over the deck, looking down a hatch.

On the yacht, Pembroke had just shoved Dilan into the compartment. Every movement Dilan made was agony, her insides and the ring of her anus throbbing with pain, blood trickling down the insides of her thighs. She was roughly tossed down and looked up in pain at the grinning face of evil.

“For all your smarts and attitude, Dilan, all you ever were is a pretty bitch with holes that are going to be plundered from now on,” Pembroke sneered. “Now, stay tight. Soon you will be introduced properly to your new life.”

Cassie recognized the figure as he stood up—it was Edward Pembroke. She smiled knowingly to herself. “What a coincidence, eh, Mother?” she murmured, laughing and shaking her head.

That evening, the trio enjoyed a simple Cypriot dinner. Sheila, adorned in her best summer dress—a flowing, white, off-the-shoulder piece that accentuated her tanned skin and highlighted her curves—had prepared what she hoped would be an excellent rustic Greek meal for her daughter and their guest. Her golden hair cascaded in loose waves down her back, and a subtle touch of makeup enhanced her natural beauty. The table was adorned with fresh Greek salad, grilled lamb, homemade tzatziki, and warm pita bread. A bottle of chilled white wine complemented the meal perfectly.

Edward Pembroke had swum from the yacht to shore after making contact through sign language as they viewed each other through their pairs of binoculars. They now laughed at the absurdity yet excitement of it all. Now, he was dressed in a crisp white shirt and trousers, effortlessly charming both Sheila and Cassie.

An old record player, crackling softly, played traditional Greek music, filling the air with a nostalgic melody since there was no electricity in the cottage.

Cassie, dressed in a light, flowing sundress perfect for a summer evening on a Greek island and showing off as much skin as she could, was delighted by Pembroke’s attention. She wore sandals and had her hair loosely tied back, embodying the carefree spirit of youth on holiday.

The evening was filled with playful, flirtatious banter. Pembroke teased Cassie about her holiday adventures, remarking, “I bet you have all the boys in Ayia Napa wrapped around your finger.”