Chapter 35

Teresa Yildiz came home after another afternoon ‘appointment’ then went straight to her night shift at the care home. She might as well make the most of the last few years of her looks, and take the money. She thought of how she might spend tomorrow after finally getting some sleep. She could go through all the emails and messages from her new website about leads for Sophie, or try and call her other daughter. Jenny was furious with her about the death of Rodney Jackson and her interference in the police investigation. She was coming to the conclusion that Sophie was dead, whether suicide or murder, and was thinking of returning to Australia, this time for good.

There was still interest in Sophie’s disappearance and journalists and amateur sleuths were still roaming around, though both the Yildizes were sick of them. One such amateur sleuth was one Dale Forsythe, who had been around the pubs near where Sophie lived. After chatting with bar staff of local pubs, and passing letters to some flats in and around Sophie’s tower block, he got some leads.

Many were happy just to talk over the phone or skype which suited Mr Fosyth just fine. After his failure to get any response from Jenny or Teresa, nor any interesting information, he was just about to give up, when he had a fascinating conversation from an old Jamaican lady, Gladys, who demanded a hundred pounds up front for information.

“Hello, Gladys, this is Dale Forsyth.”

“Yah, you got mi money?”

“Sorry, I can send it over now. You said you had interesting news about Teresa Yildiz?”

“Yah, she’s a bad woman, man. She was runnin’ ‘round wid men all di time when Sophie disappear. An’ now she back workin’ as a prostitute. She used to do it years ago, but now she back inna di same ting. And her daughter missin’! No shame at all.”

“How you know?”

“Mi nephew, he work for di man she work for—Tommy Petrakis. Him got her runnin’ ‘round London seein’ men for all kind of weird kinky stuff, man. Mi don’t even want to know! She ain’t just workin’ in no care home. She workin’ as a prostitute, yuh hear?”

“Who is Tommy Petrakis?”

“Him a pimp, drug dealer, all kind of tings, man. Him a real bad man. Mi don’t know why Teresa gettin’ mixed up wid these people. But she is. She inna some bad company.”

This was intriguing news. ‘Tommy Petrakis’?

Dale Forsyth was, of course, a pseudonym. Edward Pembroke had adopted a fake LinkedIn profile and after contacting dozens of people this was the only real interesting information he had gathered. Until now he had been quite disappointed.

After some more investigation, he found an escort agency linked to a night club run under Tommy Petrakis’ name. He looked at the profiles and saw a ‘VIP’ section with blacked out faces. The prices were exceedingly high. He called the number and prepared his false accent.

“Hi, my name’s James, I want to order a date.”

“Oh yeah, what girl do you want?”

“What’s the VIP section?”

“You have to pay up front to get more information.”

“They are that good?”

“They are the best we have, we offer a bespoke service”

Pembroke was intrigued. He used an untraceable prepaid debit card and transferred money across, then confirmed his email address, another fake email he had set up and would soon discard, and looked forward to looking at the details.

“If you use us regularly, we can give you even more information on whats out there...”

Pembroke guessed that if he became a repeat customer they would let him know if one of the girls was semi-famous.

Pembroke flipped through the photos he had downloaded from the escort agency’s website, growing more frustrated with each one. The agency promised a roster of exclusive women, but so far, all he saw were blurry images and vague descriptions. None of the faces looked familiar, and the ones that weren’t blurred seemed like ordinary people—certainly no one with any claim to fame or past pop stardom.

“What a scam,” he muttered, thinking about the money he’d paid to access this supposed “elite” catalog. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but this wasn’t it. Then he remembered the photographs he’d found of Teresa Yildiz on social media—mostly beach shots and photos in bikinis from a few years back.

Maybe it was worth a shot. Pembroke opened the folder containing Teresa’s photos and began to compare them with the agency’s images. He checked their body shapes, hair color, and even the general style of their clothing. The process was tedious, and he began to doubt whether this would yield any results.

However, after sifting through a dozen photos, he saw one that made him pause. The woman’s face was obscured, but the body shape and hair color looked similar to Teresa’s. The location in the background seemed like a generic hotel room, but the hint of a tattoo on the woman’s shoulder—a faint silhouette—looked eerily familiar.

Pembroke pulled up one of Teresa’s bikini photos for comparison. Sure enough, there was a tattoo on Teresa’s shoulder in almost the exact same spot and of a similar shape. Could it be a match? He knew one person who could tell him.

He made his way down to the basement, to see the sorry sight of Sophie, in flowery vest and knickers, lying on the bench, snoozing. “Get up Sophie!,”

He took her out of the cell, and had her stand beside him as he sat at the desk on his chair with his laptop open. Turning the laptop to airplane mode for safety, he asked her:

“Does your mummy have a tattoo?”

Sophie was thrown by this question. “Yes, yes she does, er a lizard here...” she pointed to a spot on the back of her shoulder. It matched what he could see on screen. “Come here baby.”

He sat her on his lap as he showed her the photos of the near naked woman on screen. “Tell me, does that look like your mummy?”

Sophie got a lump in her throat as she recognised her mother’s tattoo and soft welcoming body. She longed to be in her arms again. “Please ... please daddy, don’t hurt my mum”

“Don’t worry darling, I won’t hurt her, I just want to play with her. It looked like mummy is a whore, did you know this?”

Sophie was dumbstruck. Looking at the site, it seemed like an escort website, trading sex for money. Her mum did sleep around it was true, but this?

“Do you know Gladys? Gladys Thompson, I think? She told me your mummy worked as a prostitute.”

Sophie smarted at this, she did know Gladys, an old black woman from a crime ridden family. How had Pembroke inserted himself into her family so much and why? What was the point of this?

“Daddy, why are you following my mum?”

Pembroke kissed her neck, and ran his hand over her stomach, then down between her legs. “Because I enjoy owning you and exploring your life, and your mummy is part of that. Now ... hop off, I am going to play a video on screen of exercises and I want you to follow it. Let me put the collar on you ... there ... that’s it, so I don’t have to get up to discipline you. Daddy has some work to do, while you work your body!”

Sophie watched the screen and did the exercises, which were straightforward and she was actually glad of the movement. Spending hours and hours a day in solitary confinement in the cell was driving her mad.

Pembroke kept the corner of his eye on her as he went back to his laptop. He made some more online orders of special up-to-date electronic equipment, ensured it would arrive soon, then made another payment and arranged a date with Teresa. What a lot of money! His teacher’s salary would not cover this, he might have to do some extra curricular contract work to top up his income.

The best sex, of course, was free. He looked up at the lithe figure of Sophie, adopting a warrior pose in yoga. He gently buzzed her neck, causing her to fall to the floor, and turned off the video.

“That’s enough yoga for now Sophie, get on the bed, and take your knickers off. I’m hungry and I want to eat you.”

Sophie complied like the obedient girl she was coming to be, and relaxed as she felt his hungry mouth munch on her pussy. Introducing pineapple into her diet had really made a difference as he noticed its taste within her folds as his tongue explored her juices. He pushed her thighs back so her ankles were around her ears and licked her asshole aggressively, then back into her pussy before nibbling on her throbbing clit. It was not long before her pussy sprayed him with an orgasm. Whatever made her piss herself easily when scared, also made her squirt over him when licking her, and he loved it.

“All right, 69 now. I cannot stop eating you.”

Sophie hovered over him, sucking the hard rod of his cock and trying to concentrate despite the overwhelming feelings she got between her own legs from his mouth. She wished she could just relax and orgasm but knew that a lazy sucking could mean more marks across her hands later. She came again, and her eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings as she almost passed out between his thighs until a firm spank to her ass woke her up again, with a command to get back to sucking. This was hardest for her, dealing with fingers in her ass and pussy while maintain a steady rhythm but finally the hot salty cum squirted into the back of her throat and she squeezed every last drop out of him and into her tummy.

“I’ve turned you into a hot slut! I can’t wait to compare you to your mummy, maybe its in your blood!” He slapped her buttocks as the sign to get off him.

Sophie was unceremoniously returned to her cell. She even came minutes later on her own, a delayed reaction from the built up sexual energy released by his aggressive tongue. She was so embarrassed at how her body was betraying her! She feared for her mother. Would she be seeing her again, down here? Would they be sharing a cell? On one hand she wanted to see her mum again, but did not want her captured too! Not least because she had no illusions about the sick games this monster would make them play together.

Jenny was working the counter at her café in Central London. It was busy and she paid no heed to the lone middle aged man sitting by himself in the corner. Edward Pembroke was excited. He was finally in the presence of another Yildiz female! Jenny was pretty, she was the same height as Sophie albeit four years older, still beautiful and young at eighteen. She was much darker, he had no doubt they were half sisters, not full sisters, her nose was different as well. She seemed more confident and sure of herself in dealing with customers and the other staff, yet still seemed detached and far away. Perhaps thinking of her missing kid sister. Pembroke brought what seemed like a handkerchief from his pocket and sniffed it. It was a pair of Sophie’s panties, that she had worn for a day and changed out of hours earlier. He wondered if Jenny had the same scent. He wished there was a way to find out.

He had been in London primarily to pick up the last of the electronic equipment he needed. He had found out where Jenny worked and had gambled she might be working and was delighted to find she was there. It was a Saturday and the place was incredibly busy. He knew the place closed at 6pm and waited patiently. At kicking out time, he moved to another café across the street, and waited until she came out. It was not so hard to follow people in London, no one really checked on other people especially from behind.

He got on the same bus as her, then got off at the same stop and took the same train. She was as hopeless as Sophie, he smirked, girls were such easy creatures. When she got out in east London, a few miles from her mother’s flat, he had to be more careful in tailing her at a distance. Jenny suspected nothing as Pembroke watched her disappear into a two story ex council flat near Stratford, with Pembroke guessing this was her home. “Interesting,” he thought, and made a note of the address. It was good to know where she lived. It was fun, tracking down girls a marvellous hobby he thought more men should adopt. You never know when you might get a golden opportunity to abduct someone.

He returned home late, eager to enjoy the fruits of his successful project, Sophie. She was on her period, which disgusted Pembroke, so she should be prepared herself for some hard anal sex right now. He hoped she had cleaned her self out and fingered herself to readiness as he had commanded. It had been quite a while since her last serious bout of torture, and he was eager to try the old techniques again. One should always flex ones muscles.

Teresa got another request for a ‘date’ this time in a day hotel near Liverpool Street Station. She choked up when she realised this was the station from which Sophie had mysteriously taken a train from, and vanished.

Her ass cheeks still bore the scars of her beating from Thomas Peck though at least she could sit down. She had to humiliatingly explain to her last two clients that she did this as an ‘extra’ and had enjoyed it. Of course they had both enquired about doing it themselves after checking out the marks on her buttocks, which disgusted her. Why were men such horrible pigs? Hopefully this one would be better. All she knew was he was a Canadian banker, married, called Geoff, who was flying out soon.

‘Geoff’ had spent most of that Saturday in the pre booked room, rigging up hidden cameras in the hotel room. He had practised with these around his house and in the basement. He had made the carrot and stick approach with Sophie, promising her she would get a spanking unless she could find the cameras around the room, and despite looking and looking she could not see them all, and so a sound spanking was hers.

“I cannot wait to fuck your mummy, Sophie. God I am going to savour every minute of it and we will watch the footage together afterwards.”

“Are you going to do to her, what you did to me, what you did to those other girls?” Sophie was scared, because she felt she had to do something to stop him, but what could she do? If she failed to stop him, she was effectively an accomplice, a useless daughter.

“Yes, yes I think so, why ever not? It will be great fun don’t you think? You mummy, crusader for lost children and against revenge porn, outed as a hooker with her sex video online? Haha she would be a huge hit on the forums. And you must admit Sophie, it is a little unfair I cannot put your stuff online, you would be a dark web star if I did but alas...” he shrugged sadly “One must keep up the pretence for now, that you are dead.”

He regained his cheer and nudge Sophie as if to console her.”So if your mummy gets shamed online, think of it as just the universe balancing itself out!”

Pembroke had arranged to meet Teresa firstly in a small restaurant nearby. He had called a few days before and told them his daughter’s phone had been stolen there six weeks earlier, and might they have CCTV footage? After a minute, he was informed that they got rid of their CCTV footage ever 31 days. “Oh how unfortunate” he said, smiling to himself.

Teresa arrived in a chic outfit that was perfect for the warm September weather. It was flirty and a bit daring, showing off her buxom figure. At forty-two, she still had a great body and knew how to flaunt it. She greeted Pembroke with a bright smile, the kind that could light up a room. Her shoulder-length hair was strawberry blonde, and her blue eyes sparkled—just like her daughter’s.

She had the classic “hooker with a heart of gold” vibe, and her friendly demeanor quickly put the shy Pembroke at ease. They sat down at a table in the restaurant’s bar area and ordered drinks. Teresa seemed kind, almost too kind, and Pembroke found himself relaxing in her presence.

Pembroke wore glasses with a small spy camera between the lenses which would capture everything for the next few hours. The clunky glasses, combined with his large overweight frame, shy demeanor, and overall nerdy appearance, made the fifty-five-year-old seem quite unattractive.

When Teresa saw Pembroke, he wasn’t quite what she had expected a middle aged Canadian investment banker would look like. He was a big man, towering over six feet with a broad build and large hands. He carried a bit of extra weight, with a double chin and a portly belly that stretched his shirt. His face, though rugged, was not the kind that would turn heads—ugly, some might say, with a receding hairline and streaks of grey in what little hair he had left.

But Teresa had a way of seeing beyond appearances after a lifetime of dealing with men and good looking narcissists. She noticed how he carried himself, a bit awkwardly, as if he wasn’t used to being in this kind of setting. His eyes, although hard to find behind clunky black glasses, had a sort of nervous kindness. Teresa could tell he was trying to make a good impression, even though it didn’t come naturally to him.