Chapter 6

It was 7.30pm when he got home. He carried the suitcase into the house, and left it in his living room. He went to his computer, and checked his screens. He went first downstairs again.

“Hello my dear. Sorry I was so long. I have some good news. I have your things!”

“Please, I need to go the toilet...” she said

“Oh of course, let me get that thing off you” He bent down while keeping an eye on her, and took his key out. He unlocked the two padlocks and put the cord and locks back in a drawer. She sat up, and put her hand between her legs.

“Please, can I go now?”

“Yes of course,” through this way, as he held the open apparition door open. “Go to the toilet.”

She scampered across the room, got to the toilet, and pulled down her panties, and sighed as the tinkle sounded around the room.

“I’m sorry; I don’t leave you so restrained in future.” He did wonder how he could trust her in future; he would have to allow her full reign of the basement if she needed the bathroom.

“Now wash and dry yourself” he pointed to the shower head. She mechanically followed the orders.

“You don’t seem so happy about the news about your suitcase” queried Pembroke.

“Thank you sir. Will I be able to have it?” she responded.

“Yes I think so, I will just take a look through it first. Then I will bring it down here. I want you to be as happy as possible. Did you read while I was away?”

“I don’t really understand those books...”

“Well you must. But if you have any books you want me to get for you, let me know”

She remained silent. “Can I have my phones sir?”

“Absolutely out of the question. You don’t need phones down here. They are very bad for you, you know. Now do not ask me about them again.”

He had googled and googled. Phones that were switched off could not be found. The phones in his pockets upstairs were not going to incriminate him.

“Sorry sir, but maybe you can use them for me” she said in a small voice.

Pembroke thought she must want him to get caught. Surely she wouldn’t be happy with him going through her phones. “Maybe, I will if I want.” She had pulled her panties up and was now tapping her stomach as if to await further instructions.

“Wait here, I will be back down shortly. Are you hungry?”

“Yes please, sir I’m starving.”

“Very well. First the suitcase, then your dinner.” Smiled Pembroke. He walked out of the cage and through the doors. He closed all the doors methodically.He must make this a habit and not take shortcuts.

He came back down with the suitcase. He looked at the screen and saw her walking around the basement; he smiled and waited at the padded door, watching her. She reminded him of Mowgli in the jungle boy, how she prowled around, trying to find something interesting. He watched her run her hands around the fucking bench.

He opened the padded door, she had snapped to attention with her hands by her side. He was pleased at the obedience that came as an instinct.

She looked at the suitcase and gasped. “Our friend Abdul will not be bothering you anymore.” He set it on the floor. “Why don’t you go through it yourself, while I make your dinner.”

“What time is it sir?”

“Ha I forgot to tell you. It is just coming up to eight o clock on the evening on Christmas day. You have been here about 24 days already. What a day, eh?” He smiled at her. It was partly an act on his part to be so theatrically evil, but also necessary he wanted to avoid a chink of sympathy.

He left after locking all the doors and went back upstairs. He went through his phone again. It wondered what he would have done all day. The church service, followed by wine and TV.

He took his wig and moustache and blue raincoat, and put them in a bin bag. Should he get rid of them now? Or wait until the morning? He resolved to wait until the morning and put it next to his bin. He went upstairs and turned on the screen. She was on her knees, reading through papers.

He went down to the kitchen, and put some chips in the microwave, opened some tuna, and chopped some tomatoes. He also grabbed a choc ice, took out the stick, and put it in a bowl with spoon. He brought a fold up table and chair back downstairs, checked the screen and saw her now sitting cross legged looking at photos. He pressed the code, and the handle and moved into the basement.

He was delighted to see that she had stood up by the time he had got into the cage. He punched in the further code, and brought in and set up the table and chair in front of her. “Take a seat, your dinner will be with you shortly.”

He disappeared and locked up behind him. He told him it must be like seatbelts, always lock up all doors. He went upstairs and got a plate of chips, tomatoes and tuna with the ice cream, and a glass of water. He carefully carried them downstairs, feeling like a servant. He had to keep putting down the tray to open the doors and codes and opened out into the cage. Dilan was sitting at the table, ankles crossed, hands clenched and pressed on her knees and her eyes cast on Pembroke.

Pembroke was weary of appearing like a clown and was not sure how to put it down on the ground while opening the cage door without looking unmanly. He suddenly got nervous as if he was a waiter at a wedding serving a wedding cake. Carefully he knelt down, then stood up and pushed the cage door open. He walked through and ordered her. “Go there, pick up the tray and carry it over to the table.” In this way he re-established hierarchy and got her to deal with the troublesome tray. She lifted it up, and nervously carried it through the cage door, and set it on the table, nearly knocking the glass over at the last.

“Now eat, you must be starving, this is your first proper meal here.” Pembroke lent back on the gyna table behind her and watched her as she ate. He was planning to only feed her healthy food. He had read of the “bottom diet” where gay men who bottomed for anal sex only ate certain food to make themselves clean. This thought occurred to him that Dilan must be as clean as possible and anal sex was high on the list of what he wanted to do. For now, he was not sure he wanted penetrative sex tonight. He felt exhausted and could not yet relax. He was now annoyed he would have to wait for ten days until he could hear any chat about Dilan at school at the earliest. He was hoping for an apathetic acceptance she had disappeared. Then he could finally enjoy her and try and build her new life.

When she had finished Pembroke told her to stand up and face against the wall. He was aware of how awkward it would be to carry the tray back up so did not want her to see. He gathered it up, checked she was obeying, and took the empty cutlery and tray back upstairs. He cleaned the plates and it occurred to him that if visitors came they might suspect he had cooked something for someone else. He had to be careful, like a full time spy.

He went back up to the screens to watch her. She was pacing around the room. She was an athletic looking girl and had been restrained for 24 hours, so she must be restless. Perhaps a peleton bike would be a good present for her. He decided now might be a good time to test the loudspeaker.

There was obviously a boom or crackling sound, as he saw her jump up and start before he had said anything. He hoped the volume was not sky high ... He said very quietly...” Dilan”

He saw Dilan look all around her. From her perspective, he thought, it could be a ghost, it could be anything. He resisted the urge to tell her to relax. “Dilan, this is your master, your owner.” It seemed Dilan now recognised the voice and calmed down, yet still looked around while she brought her hands clasped together under her chin. “Why don’t you stretch your legs a little longer. I will be down later to play with you. I will give you about ten minutes notice, whereupon I will want you to visit the toilet, shower yourself clean, brush your teeth, and change into some new clothes. For now, remain in those cute clothes, and relax until I message you again.”

He watched her pace around for several minutes. He went downstairs and brought up a glass of wine. He wanted to be careful not to get drunk but wanted to relax as well. This was better than any Christmas movie. He wanted to gauge her character. She went through her clothes but wisely resisted putting any on. She went into the bedroom and went through the drawers of clothes. He saw her pull out a sexy nurses outfit. She held it up to her as if to try it for size. She looked through the trousers and pyjamas and then rifled through the books. She read for a minute the first page of one before putting it back. She then started pacing around and around furiously, waving her arms.

Pembroke supped his wine and scrolled on his phone while watching her. He went through twitter, local newspapers and the local subreddit for any news about a missing girl. He entered her name in google and got no new information. She had now been “missing” for well over 24 hours yet presumably nothing had been reported. He tried to think logically how Abdul would react. His ‘girlfriend’ with whom he a very stormy and abusive relationship and who frequently walked out on him, had first gone to ground, then tricked him into taking back her things. She may or may not have used some unknown middle aged man to help her. She had maybe blocked him or dumped her phone. Abdul was hardly going to go to the police over this.

He told himself he must translate those Kurdish/Turkish messages. He was intrigued as to her family situation. He used to assume muslim girls all had large conservative families. It seemed, happily for him that Dilan had a dysfunctional family torn apart by war and geography. He opened up a document and began making a blank family tree for her. He put in spaces for her half brothers and parents. He also set out a list of people she knew including Abdul.

One problem he had, which he needed to think about now before he drank too much wine, was that she far from a virgin. He could use her condoms if it came to it, but it struck him that he did not want to penetrate her tonight and not just because of the risk of STDs. He also needed to start her on the contraceptive pill. He wondered should he get her drunk?

Dilan paced around, brimming with energy. Her hips, sides, and knees ached from the cuts and bruises. Even touching her face caused pain where cuts and bruises adorned her skin. As she surveyed her surroundings, she sought information about her prison. The main room was painted in a lurid red, with rubber black flooring. It felt odd to have her belongings here; she realized she hardly had any possessions in the world. The place had a surprisingly pleasant smell.

Examining her bedroom, she found it to be a more welcoming pink. She considered reading the books, hoping they might offer an escape into another world. Despite her lack of concentration, she felt it could be a gateway out of her current situation.

She tightly gripped the bars of the cage, unable to reach through to the main door. Contemplating the keypad, she wondered whether she should try using it but ultimately decided against it. As she surveyed the equipment, a shudder ran through her. The worst, she believed, was not over. Could it be more than just Mr. Pembroke? He was her teacher, and she struggled to comprehend the situation in this unfamiliar country. Why did this happen to her? Why did other girls just have normal lives, and this was her fate?

Yasmin and Dilan had to leave the camp. Yasmin’s ex-lover provided them with some money, which they used to pay a trafficker to bring them to Antalya on the coast. Yasmin and Dilan shared a room in a hotel, and Yasmin found work as a cleaner. As summer approached, young Dilan marveled at the influx of Western tourists flooding the city, adorned in bikinis on the beach. Despite her mother’s conservative nature, always wearing a headscarf, Dilan embraced the local school and started learning Turkish.

In early 2019, Yasmin received distressing news about one of Dilan’s half-brothers who had died in Syria. Fearing that Dilan’s deceased father’s family might take her away, Yasmin kept this information from her. Dilan’s father’s brothers persisted in contacting them, and one of them, Mohammed, offered money in exchange for a meeting. They all convened in a teahouse in central Antalya. Yasmin, cautious of Mohammed, who was unlike her late husband and had a history of violence toward his own wife, had moved to England in the past few years with his own family. Mohammed offered assistance in moving to England.

That evening, Mohammed extended a further offer to Yasmin. The next morning, Dilan witnessed her uncle and mother exiting the same bedroom. She withdrew, pretending not to have seen anything. After Mohammed left, Yasmin revealed to Dilan that they would soon be leaving for England. In their modest apartment, they eagerly watched videos of England and exchanged beginner’s English phrases, both signing up for Duolingo on their phones.

A few weeks later, Yasmin inexplicably became depressed. She informed Dilan that they needed more money to move to England and decided to seek additional work. Gradually, Dilan noticed her mother staying out longer, well past her usual working hours and sometimes overnight. Eventually, Yasmin instructed Dilan to spend her days playing on the beach. Dilan observed unfamiliar men, overweight and blonde, entering and leaving their apartment.

Months later, Dilan was shocked when her mother returned home wearing a summer dress, a Western hat, sunglasses, and accompanied by Ole, a large, shy Norwegian man whom Yasmin introduced as her boyfriend. Dilan was surprised by her mother’s transformation, as Yasmin seemed happy and in complete control of Ole. Yasmin began talking about life in Norway, and both Yasmin and Ole conversed in their mutual broken English about school life in Norway.

But the relationship deteriorated. Ole disappeared one day in January, and Yasmin grew depressed. She tried to get her old job back as a cleaner, but soon was back to her real old work. This time, she barely concealed it form Dilan. Dilan remembered one terrible night. She was woken by screams and ran into the living room. Her mother was naked and holding a knife, and yelling at a red haired man to get out. He spat at her and when he saw Dilan, took his penis and started pulling on it in front of her. “Get out, Dilan get to your room” Yasmin cried.

The man laughed and advanced on her mother. Yasmin held her knife up while cursing at him. Dilan was terrified; she could see her mother did not have the strength to use it. The man grabbed the knife with one hand and her mother’s throat with the other.

“Get into that room ... now” snarled the man in English. He pushed her through and Yasmin tripped over Dilan. “You sit there. You watch your mommy take it.” He sniggered. “Please, she is a child ... please leave her alone...” Yasmin cried in broken English, pleading. “If you just shut up I might leave her alone. Now bend over.” Dilan watched, terrified, as the man slapped her mother’s buttocks, pushed her head down, and suddenly grabbed Dilan by the hair. “Look at mommy’s ass, isn’t that nice, huh?” Dilan had seen her mother naked before, but never like this, bent over and displayed like this. She had not seen adult female genitalia like this. He pushed her back down, and spat between her mother’s buttocks and on his penis.

Yasmin just lay down with her head on the pillow, moaning. Suddenly, the red haired man started to stuff his hard penis into her. Yasmin began to scream. “Keep fucking quiet, stick your head in that pillow or I’ll rape your daughter and cut you both!” Yasmin quietened and instead let out high pitched grunts of pain as she bit into the pillow and dug her nails into the sheets. Dilan sat back down against the wall, and cried as the man started mashing against her mother’s backside until he became like a piston. A few minutes later, he stopped; he put his clothes on, threw the knife into the corner of the room, and walked out the room. Yasmin remained with her face buried in the pillow, lay on her side and pulled her hands down between her legs, crying in pain. Dilan climbed onto the bed, hugged her mother and the two fell asleep together.

The next morning, their landlord came and gave them 24 hours notice to vacate the apartment.

Pembroke stopped himself after his second glass of wine. He had some chocolate and cheese to prevent having an empty stomach and took a shower, shaved, and brushed his teeth. He picked out a black T-shirt, black trousers, and some black trainers, feeling this was the most fitting outfit. He checked all the doors of the house and went back up to check the screens. Dilan was now standing, leaning against the gyno table, and playing with a piece of fabric — a T-shirt — in her hand. She remained in her green panties and black vest. Pembroke licked his lips, turned on the microphone. She instantly looked up, and he realized there seemed to be an unavoidable noise at the start of any broadcast.

“Dilan, this is your master. I am going to come down and visit you in ten minutes. You have ten minutes to make sure you have gone to the toilet, brushed your teeth, showered yourself, and taken good care to clean the inside of your bottom — remember! Before this, walk over to your clothes pile.”

Dilan complied and stopped beside the pile. ‘Try and find a red pair of panties.’ She went through them, then held a red thong in her hands. ‘Hold it above your head,’ she held it aloft. ‘Is it a thong?’ He listened for a response; he saw her open her mouth, but no sound. Dammit. ‘I am sorry, Dilan, I cannot hear you. It’s not your fault; the microphone is not working. Now instead, nod to me. Is it a thong?’ Dilan nodded. ‘Excellent choice! Now pick out a bra of any color.’ She picked a white bra and held it aloft. ‘That will do. You don’t need any more clothes. Now put those on the gyna table... ‘ she looked around. ‘The white table to your left.’ She moved to the gyna table and put the underwear there. ‘Now, you have ten minutes, so get to it. See you soon!’

Pembroke sat back and watched. She ran to get the toothbrush, ran it under the shower, and started to brush while sitting on the toilet. After a few minutes, she got off and flushed, then ran the water again. She washed the toothbrush and left it on the cistern while she waited for the water to turn warm. Pembroke waited; he wanted to see if she could use the showerhead and clicked for a better view on a different camera. He flicked on a remote extractor fan to avoid steam, the control switch being in his study beside two other switches that controlled the light of the study and a hall light outside. It amused Pembroke to think of all the buttons that seemed to do nothing but which every house had.

He watched as Dilan stuck her bum out, holding onto the wall with one hand, while she tried to fit it inside her. She winced, pursed her lips, then dipped her head down while her hand bunched up into a fist against the wall. Eventually, she pulled the showerhead out, and she jerked upright, clutching her buttocks with both hands as the head dropped to the floor. The area around the shower was sloped toward the drain, though he noted the head was now spraying towards the center of the room. He hoped this would not be something of a disciplinary matter he would have to deal with.

Dilan turned her back against the wall, and he saw the beginning of a jet of water spring from her bowels before he turned away. He then watched her shower the wall and floor of the shower before crouching down and fitting it back into her bowels. Pembroke had read that constant anal douching was not healthy, so he resolved not to make this a daily habit for her. After a third douching, he announced, ‘Make sure everything is clear, Dilan. I will be down in a few minutes.’”

Pembroke turned off the monitors and checked his phone one last time, including searching her name on twitter. He got the wine bottle and poured the remains into a plastic container, and took two plastic cups and put them in his pocket. He then made his way downstairs.

Dilan dried herself furiously; she had not washed her hair as she considered it clean enough. She had checked the last douching, and only clear water had shot out of her bowels. She had quickly lathered herself in soap before a final rinsing. She raced towards the gyna table and tried to get the red thong the right way around and untwist it. She pulled it up, realized it was twisted, and had to take it off and put it back on. She took the bra, and at that moment, she heard the door open. She continued to put the bra on, and Pembroke caught her as she was still fixing her bra. “Just in time!” He smiled. He punched the code in for the door and entered. “You look great. Turn around.” Dilan turned; Pembroke noticed that the thong fitted perfectly despite her narrow hips and small buttocks. She was standing straight up, and he could see her thigh gap, and then the thin red line of her thong the whole way up her buttocks did not quite touch in the middle.

Pembroke approached her and held her shoulders, and turned her around. He kissed her. Dilan closed her eyes, and opened them briefly to see his giant face in her. It was overwhelming to feel his desire and his large hands planted on each of her butt cheeks. “Put your arms around me” he commanded.

She complied, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth, like a warm, forceful worm. He tasted fresh, as if he had just brushed his teeth. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to think of something else. Taylor Swift’s ‘Cruel Summer’ suddenly played in her mind, bouncing around. His hand moved up, digging into the back of her head and massaging her scalp.

He paused and said, “I want you to stick your tongue out ... come on.” Automatically, Dilan shut her mouth. After a brief moment of silence, she stuck her tongue out, and he enveloped it with his lips, sucking on it. Their noses pressed together, and his tongue started to explore its way back into her mouth.

He broke off again, saying, “Okay, now I’m going to stick my tongue out, and I want you to suck it.” Dilan instinctively closed her mouth. After a brief pause, she opened it and welcomed his tongue. Swirling deep inside her mouth, it almost reached the back of her throat.

After a few more minutes, he let her go. She wiped her mouth free of the saliva covering her mouth. Her eyes were watering. “That was amazing” he said, wiping his own mouth and chin. He grabbed her hand. “Let’s try this.” He pointed to the fucking bench. “Kneel on those pads.” She did so, and he then pushed her forwards. “I’m not going to lock you in or anything” He said, getting close to her ears.” I just want to check you out.” He rubbed his large hands all over her, under and over her bra strap, feeling her bones underneath her buttocks, and massaging so deeply that she squealed in pain. “I’m sorry, kid, you are just too much.” Like an animal he bit into her left butt cheek. He sucked as hard as he could, trying not to use his teeth. She started bucking and jerking wildly, slapping her hands against the sides of the machine and shaking her head up and down, in reaction to the pain. He kept his mouth clasped around her flesh as her bum moved back and forth. Letting go, he grinned and saw the red mark his mouth had made. That would be a bruise tomorrow. He ran his hand up her back and clawed his way down with his fingernails leaving four red trails. She shot a hand back to hold his hand but could not stop his hand drawing down until he reached her thong. He ran a finger under the fabric and down her tailbone slowly, pressing against flesh, until he eventually reached the rough opening of her bumhole. He held his finger there, and watched her gripping the sides of the bench, arching her back, her head bowing down then shooting up, dealing with the sensations.

He took his finger away, and pulled the thong string to one side, taking look at her nether regions. He let the thong snap back and then ran his tongue up and down the thin red fabric covering her modesty. His tongue darted to the side and the bare flesh of her inner thighs which made her jump and almost giggle and make a series of high pitched squeaks. His tongue ran the length of her inner pelvic ridge, nudging the thong fabric, until he met her lips. Impatiently he pulled the nylon away and began lapping the flesh directly. “Oohhhh” cried Dilan. He was glad she was enjoying this. He began chewing on the top of her lips where her clitoris was, his top lip stubble pressed against her vaginal opening, and his nose pressed into her bumhole. His eyes could see over her spine and he saw the rippling of her back as her body gyrated.

He moved up and began circling around her bumhole with his tongue, trying to stab it in. He hoped she liked this, while he loved doing this, he would eventually be making her lick his own bumhole, so this was part of the preparation. She moaned and periodically exhaled loudly.

Her reaction changed when he moved down to her feet. Just a little tickle of her feet provoked a scream, which he stopped with a quick slap to her buttocks. She had been barefoot all day, and despite recently showering he would normally have been weary of licking her feet but he could not resist her delicate little soles. He lapped his tongue up and down and across her instep.

Dilan’s head shot up, and she tried to lift her foot almost kicking him in the head. Pembroke laughed “Babe, sorry but I’m gonna lock you in for this one.” He pushed her back down and gripped her left calf, before wrapping the velcro restraint around one ankle, then the other ankle. He then went back to hungrily feasting on her feet, and her toes. “Aaaa,, no. no no! stop no...! “ she continued as if he was cutting into her. He just switched his mouth to her other foot, while gently tickling the other with his fingers. She moved back and her bum moved down close to his head but she could nothing to stop the attack on her feet. He continued licking with a smile on his face while she slapped the sides of the bench furiously, shaking violently and making gurning noises through obviously clenched teeth. Her two buttocks moved from side to side displaying her stress.

Eventually he decided she had enough though he could have feasted on her for hours more. She got up and out of the bench after he untied her. She was out of breath; a sheen of sweat now covered her chest and back. He held a finger at the base of her spine to scoop up a little droplet and put it in his mouth.

While she recovered herself, he went back to the cage and picked up the plastic container of wine and the two cups which were on the ground, and brought them to the table. There was just one chair downstairs. He sat down and poured two cups.

“Come sit on my lap” She obeyed and came over, slowly. “Have you ever drank wine before?” “ I don’t really like alcohol ... Uuugh” she was still a little out of breath. “Well have some, did you have an orgasm?” “I don’t know...” “You don’t know what...?” he gently tapped the side of her hips as she sank on top of his thigh. His penis grew large under his trousers. “I think so ... sir”

“Good, well here is to many more, cheers and merry Christmas!” he picked up his cup, and clinked it against hers. He savoured her taste in his mouth for one last second before drinking his wine. Dilan winced as she tasted the bitter and unfamiliar alcohol.

“Tell me about what Abdul did to you. Tell me a story.” He said, slapping her fleshy part of her hips. She was so bony that he could almost feel her tailbone pressing down on his thigh.

Dilan gulped down another mouthful of wine, before opening up on her tales with Abdul. She had met him outside the school some months ago, and he was friends with other pupils. They used to hang out at the hotel.

“He told me he loved me, I didn’t believe him, but I had no one else. It’s hard not having anyone.”

“Come on tell me, give me the full story...”

Dilan hesitated then spoke about how Abdul and the others had brought them out, talking, smoking, before she moved into her foster carers. He told how Fiona had at first been protective of the girls in her house. However, boys kept showing up.

One night, a man named Ibrahim, started throwing stones at her window. She had no idea who it was when she opened the window. She had told him to go away, worried she would get into trouble.

The next day outside school, she told Abdul, who told her he would keep the guys away from her. She had felt safe with him. After a few weeks, she had gone back to his hotel room, and they had sex. She didn’t elaborate, Pembroke was just getting horny and his hand kept circling her belly button. He really should hear this through.

Dilan continued, and started feeling dizzy. The wine was having an effect. Her voice became slightly slurred and she was talking quicker. She described the first time that Abdul had told her she would have to sleep with another man.

Dilan had come back from school straight to the hotel. Abdul had told her they would chill and watch some TV. She already had the token card to get straight in. As soon as she got in, Abdul had got angry.

“Where the fuck you been?” he shouted at her. He sounded drugged out. “Why, what’s the hurry?” she asked.